Nineteen

 

 

 

“Non,” Luna told him, her voice trembling as the words spilled out of the mouth. “You can’t have me. I’d rather we all die than let you use me to unleash the demons into our world.” Pure rage burned in Russo’s golden eyes, his thin lips curling downwards in indignation, at her words.

Russo shoved Michael out of the way, sending him sprawling several feet away. Luna flicked open the cork of the vial, hurrying as fast as her trembling fingers would allow her. She could feel the coldness of the glass bottle even before it touched her lips, could taste the bitter aroma of the poison before it reached her tongue.

This is it, Luna thought as the vial finally touched her lip. Goodbye, my love. Russo was inching towards her, anger etched across his face. She thought she could hear him shouting, but the world was mute to everything but her pain, her sorrow. This was it. At least her death would save the world. That was something.

Ready and willing to swallow her dark fate, Luna closed her eyes. Russo’s face wasn’t the last thing she wanted to see as she lay dying. How long would it take for the poison to work? Would it be a slow, lingering death full of pain or would it be a sudden ‘lights-out’ kind of thing? Either way, she was going to find out for herself.

As her eyes closed, she made out Russo’s face, contorted in anger, and she expected to feel the first bite of pain at his hands, but there was … nothing. Just a whoosh of air, a cold breeze mixed with incredible heat. Gasping, Luna forced her eyes open.

At first, all she could make out was flames. Tendrils of red and orange flames licked upwards, snarling and biting, thick grey smoke billowing into the sky. A curtain of darkness stretched across the once-blue sky, while fire consumed the dying trees below. Then two pools of blue, as though the darkness had been struck, and the shielded sky behind it finally allowed to shine through. It wasn’t until Luna found her feet back on the ground that she realised those blue pools were eyes.

“Pierre,” she breathed, relief flowing through her before she was forced to bend over and cough up the smoke and ash she’d inhaled. “You’re here.”

“Sorry, ma petite,” he told her, his eyes assessing the scene before him. “I was stuck dispatching a few werewolves who had no rights in your brother’s territory.”

Deep menacing growls sang around the burning clearing. “What did you do, freak?” Russo demanded, spitting out the last word.

Pierre shrugged, looking deep into those molten gold eyes, burning with a hatred Luna had never thought possible for anyone. “Your scouting party was feeling a little cold in the pit on they fell into on the other side of the forest. The holes the spikes made in their bodies really let their body heat out, so I was very nice and sent a few fire orbs their way. I never realised werewolves were so flammable. So sorry, mon ami.”

The flames of anger flared brighter in Russo’s eyes, the embers leaping and twisting in a fiery dance. Luna wondered if it was possible to melt under the intensity of those eyes.

“You killed my brother!” came a shout to one side. Snake Goon leapt towards Pierre, his lips pulled back and a snarl emanating from his throat as he soared over the ground, fast and weightless. Pierre’s face remained emotionless, but his hand quickly flew into his jacket pocket, pulling out a small scarlet orb. Throwing it in the direction of the shifter, Snake Goon exploded into flames just a hair’s breadth from where Pierre stood, his limbs flailing madly, screaming until his body burst into nothing but ash, scattered by the wind.

Stunned silence permeated the clearing, only broken by the sounds of flames consuming the trees. For a second, Luna could do nothing but stand there, watching the last bits of ash float away on the breeze, mixing with the soot from the ever-encroaching fire. She’d seen the tormented souls of the dead appear out of orbs, the severed paw of one of the pack on her doorstep, and watched as the light of life die in a shifter’s eyes before, but watching a man explode in front of her … that was something new.

Not that her brain had time to reflect on it. Howls sailed through the sky, their menacing sounds deafening. “Kill them all but keep the bitches alive!” Russo screamed.

Suddenly, the howls ceased, and then Luna felt it. Tendrils of power, of energy, rolled through the air, sweeping and cascading over her. Silver shimmers lit up the darkness that had blotted out the sun, only to fade and reveal several wolves snarling in their directions.

Air swept past her face, pulling at the flesh, the wind drying the tears forming in her eyes as Pierre pushed her away just as a large grey werewolf leapt in their direction. The snowy ground, half melted under the heat of the ever-increasing flames, welcomed her warmly, its arms outstretched to catch her in a lover’s embrace. Glancing upwards, the wolf snapped its sharp teeth towards Pierre’s neck, but the dhampir had the creature firmly by its own throat, straining to push it away from his tender flesh.

A flash of silver caught Luna’s eye.

Her dagger.

Crawling to her knees, she attempted to leap for it, but something barrelled into her right side, sending her flying several feet in front of her. A choked cry for help forced its way up her throat but the sight of a dark-coloured wolf slowly inching towards her pushed it back down again. Dark eyes focused on her face. Adrenaline flew through her veins like a salmon in a river, but Luna could do nothing but freeze. Fear paralysed her, and the notion of running just increased the terror that gripped her. The wolf crept closer and closer, one giant paw after the other until its sickly hot breath flowed across her skin. Her pulse vibrated in her eyes and sweat dripped down her spine.

The dark wolf pulled back its jaw, flashing dangerously sharp teeth that promised to easily slice through her skin like a knife through soft butter. Luna’s breath lodged in the back of her throat, her eyes widening.

Then the wolf disappeared, a dark blur hurtling to the right. Glancing upwards, Pierre reached down to pull her to her feet, his lip split open and stained with blood. “Get your dagger,” he ordered. “Then get Michael!”

Snapping back to reality and desperately trying to ignore the terror that wanted to consume her, Luna watched as another werewolf lunged at them, this time knocking Pierre to the ground. Turning away, she frantically looked for her dagger. Where was it?

A glint of metallic shone in the midst of melting snow. Yes! Dashing towards it, something dark crept into the corner of her vision. Without blinking, Luna lunged towards the ground, her fingers catching the hilt of the dagger just as a sharp claw raked over the back of her head. Fire ran through her veins, but her outer form felt frozen. Crying out with the sudden sting of pain, she twisted on the ground, the dagger outstretched in her hand. Something warm spurted out across her flesh.

Heart hammering in her chest so hard she feared it would explode, Luna lifted her head, dreading what she would find. Lips drew back from fanged jaws. Wide dark eyes met hers, her dagger nestled between them, blood trickled and seeped into dark fur. Bile rose and burnt the lining of her throat as she stared at those eyes, the light within them fading until they finally died, the wolf’s body falling lifelessly to the ground.

A streak of red forced her attention up. A shimmering ball of scarlet hurtled through the air. Terror squeezed Luna’s heart as she realised where it was aiming.

“Michael!” she screamed.

Still on the ground and barely moving, a bald shifter in human form stood over Michael, getting ready to strike a heavy fist to the back of his head. The orb hurled through the smoky air like a shooting star until it crashed into the shifter, sending him crashing to the ground. Luna watched as the flames engulfed him, leaping over his flesh like an uncaged tiger, a living wall of red flames until he, too, was nothing but a pile of ash.

Rising to her knees, the snow seeping through her jeans and running down her legs, Luna glanced around the clearing. Chase was finally on his feet, fighting off one shifter in human form. Pierre was fighting off another two wolves, Misty struggling against two herself. Two beasts lashed out at her, their paws slicing at the flesh on her forearms, sending shrieks of pain flying in the air. Dropping to the ground, Misty swept her right leg out, sending the lighter coloured wolf onto its back. Silver shimmers sparkled around her arms, giving the blood flowing over her arms a luminescent glow. Luna watched as fur sprouted from her skin, her hands elongating, becoming paws and fingers into claws. She forgot Misty had the rare ability to change partially.

The female werewolf lashed out, raking down the flanks of the darker coloured wolf, drawing a high-pitched whine from it. The lighter wolf jumped up, its jaws snapping in her direction. Pain stretched across her face, Misty dropped again, her transformed hands clawing through the air. Bright red blood prayed in an arc from the creature’s throat as she brought one hand up, its whines overpowered by the sound of Misty’s screams as the other wolf clamped its powerful jaws onto her thigh, bringing her down to the ground.

Limbs shaking and fearful for the woman who she’d once seen as an enemy, Luna jumped up and sped off in Misty’s direction, adrenaline exploding in her veins. She couldn’t let Misty get killed because of her. The darker wolf had let go of Misty’s thigh, but the screaming hadn’t stopped. Luna ate the distance between herself and them, lunging just before she reached them, her dagger aimed at the creature’s neck.

But she missed.

Luna crashed into the wolf, her fingers gripping its fur so tight she imagined her bones would break under the force. Lines of dull, burning agony cut across her ribs and back. Rolling several times and with all the wind knocked out of her lungs, Luna found herself face to face with a snapping jaw. Choking on the scream lodged in her throat, those jaws inched closer and closer to her face, its rancid breath hot on her cheeks. Calling on all the strength she could find within her aching body, Luna pushed the wolf back, her face red with exertion until suddenly it disappeared.

As she sucked in a deep breath, she watched as livid gold eyes replaced the snapping jaws.

For a second, Luna wished that she had to deal with the crazed werewolf than its alpha.

“Enough!” Russo cried, slinging the werewolf through the air followed by whimpering a few seconds later. “I told you to kill the men and capture the girls. Instead, what do you do? You attack the girls, and the men are still alive. Fucking idiots.”

Leaning down, Russo grabbed Luna by the arm and forced her to her feet. He inhaled her cries, savouring them. “As much as I like the smell of your blood, I much prefer to be the one that draws it. It’s time you came home with me.” A low growl trickled from his lips.

“Not bloody likely,” Luna spat out, aiming a kick to his groin, putting all her strength into it. Russo winced but didn’t release her arm. Gritting her teeth, she aimed another kick, this time to his left knee, putting as much force behind it as she could. She repeated it, only for pain to explode in her stomach and all the oxygen fly out of her lungs. Russo pulled his fist out of her stomach and let go of her arm.

“Not very ladylike,” he admonished, glaring at her from where he stood.

“You’re not a gentleman,” she croaked, trying to draw in a breath that wouldn’t come. Her lungs felt as though they were hers and bright spots danced before her eyes.

A vice-like grip grasped her hair, pulling Luna back onto her feet. “The prophecy said you had to come with me for it to come true. I don’t recall any of it saying you had to be unharmed. I will drag you all the way to my territory if I have to, right after I fuck you in front of your brother’s corpse.”

“Fuck you, connard!” The anger within her blazed up and, gripping the hilt of the dagger tight in her hand, Luna lashed upwards. The metal sliced through his cheek, sending forth a burst of blood over her face, the crimson liquid warm against her cold skin.

Crying out, Russo released Luna, attempting to send her flying, but instead she just stumbled a few inches backwards. Without thinking, without hesitation, Luna sprang into action. All the moves Pierre had taught her, her body flew into them. Kicking, striking, parrying, her hands and legs constantly moving.

She was human, yes, but no werewolf would ever hold her down again.

Luna kept her movements going; a fist striking a jaw, her foot to the knee. Moving behind him, she lashed out again, her foot hitting the soft flesh behind his knee, the force strong enough that the delicate sound of a pop brought a dark smile to her face. The resolve to bring this creature to his knees kept her going. Her fist struck out again, her dagger slicing through flesh, although she couldn’t be sure where it landed.

The fire in her veins burned harder, faster, brighter, until it was lava that coursed through her body. All she knew was that she had to keep going. She had to be faster than her opponent. She would not let him take her. The rage inside her burned furiously, molten lava that rushed to her limbs, giving her the adrenaline to keep going. There was no way in hell he was taking her anywhere. She would not let him kill Michael, Chase, or anyone else.

Liquid pooled down her wrist, a warm torrent, but whether it was hers or not, she didn’t know. She didn’t care. She wanted his blood, and she was going to get it. Another streak of red shot past her face, her cheeks warming with the intense heat as it struck the werewolf in front of her. Russo dropped to his knees, grunting in pain, and Luna brought her dagger back. Aiming for his throat, she cried out, lunging forward, putting all her remaining energy behind it. 

And fell through the air into the snow.

“It’s not that easy to kill me,” Russo gasped, his voiced edged with pain and anger as his eyes narrowed into tiny slits at her. “You’re just a pathetic human. You’re not enough to kill me.”

Luna caught movement to the side as did Russo, but it was too late. A blur of grey fur jumped onto Russo’s back, clamping its jaws around his windpipe and crushing it. Russo fell to the floor with a strangled gasp, his hands reaching up towards the wolf on his back, but Luna pounced on them, forcing them to the ground with all the remaining strength she possessed. An unexpected surge of warmth radiated from the weapon clutched in her hand. Fingers aching, and gripping the dagger tight, Luna brought it down.

Blood spurted up, washing her face in hot crimson liquid, as she drove the dagger into his chest. She brought her head down and glared into those golden eyes, the fire quickly losing its light as realisation dawned within them. “Yes, I am,” she whispered.