Savage, page 7
part #1 of The Healer Series
“Holy shit! We’ve taken down two nests!” Flynn gasps.
“There’s still one out there that knows about the baby,” Whitlow raises his voice.
“Bridge,” we all breathe as his words hit us.
“There’s one other thing you should know.”
“What else could you say, Doc?” I hiss. “Fuck!”
“I’ve been giving her small doses of lycan blood laced with a concoction that debilitates vampires and any like them. I also injected it into her womb.”
“Wolf blood?” Flynn asks.
“Why?” I grit out. Wolf blood is the foulest tasting shit one could ever put in their mouth. We can drink it, it will nourish us somewhat, but it tastes like straight-up ass. To top it off, he’s been poisoning it.
“I wanted to see what would happen. I didn’t know she was with child until after several injections, so obviously I was testing my theory on her. But as she is pregnant, I believe the fetus will have the same reaction as her, if not stronger. Both mother and child were blood starved. My theory is lacing the blood with the inhibitor would create one of two scenarios.
“Which are what?” Eileen groans in frustration.
“Best case scenario . . . although the inhibitor gave them much pain, the lycan blood was the perk . . . in simplest terms . . . a treat.”
“You think wolf blood is a treat?” Flynn grimaces.
“With the pain, came blood, which both needed. So perhaps they will crave only lycan blood . . . or at least the child will.” His eyes grow heavy before he continues. “Worst case scenario . . .” he pauses and his head droops as he starts to nod off. I jerk him up right and slap his face hard.
“Wake the fuck up!” I growl. “What is the worst case scenario?” My insides burn with rage. He played science with my child. With her. For what? A theory?
His lids are heavy, barely opening when he mumbles, “They will both detest lycan blood. Maybe only the fetus. We’ll have to wait and see. It’s possible only the child will detest the blood and drive her to reject all things lycan. Their smell, their energy, everything about them will draw out repulsion and perhaps . . .” He coughs. “Drive her to destroy the very thing making her ill.”
I let my head hang. This just gets better and better. Now she’s with the very beings she may either want to drain dry, or kill because they repulse her. I stand and run a hand through my hair, fighting the urge to tear it from my scalp.
“Call Cassia and Nick,” I order. “I want them to take the doctor to the farm.”
“What?” Eileen practically shrieks. “Sarah will have a fucking heart attack.”
“Sarah can bite my fucking ass,” I yell. “Cassia and Nick will take him and stay to watch him. He’ll need to be restrained, and we’ll starve him to keep him weak. Tell them they need to take Thomas back with them, too. We’re going to get Aldo. We can be to her by tomorrow afternoon if we leave soon.”
“Are you sure about this, Daniel? Why can’t we just kill him?” Flynn asks, confusion rich in his voice. Kitten’s image comes to mind. Her brown eyes rich and full of ambition, her eagerness to bring justice for those who died before her. If the doctor is to die, it should be by her hand. It should be her call.
“Your daughter will decide your fate, Doc. The woman you tortured, the mother of your unborn grandchild—your grandchild you played science with—will decide if you live or die.” A small smile plays on my lips. I’ve let her down in so many ways, and she will have so much to overcome. This month of torture will surely leave mental and emotional scars I can’t even begin to imagine.
But I can give her this.
I can give her revenge.
All I want to do I sleep. Why is it when I want it most, I can’t do it. My hope is with the drugs out of my system, Thomas or Rhett can walk my dreams and I can tell them where I am. Not that I have any idea where I am, but maybe I can at least clue them in.
The door opens and two women enter with a young girl, maybe twenty, following behind them, carrying a tray with a plate of food and glass of water. My stomach wants to leap out of my body and devour the tray, I’m so hungry. But then a scent fills my nostrils and my stomach churns. I close my eyes to keep them from watering. I recognize the first woman by her sleek black hair from the day I was brought here. She was holding Fierce up while he argued for his men to bring me. She has a hard face, like she doesn’t want anyone to see anything but strength. She kind of reminds me of Sarah. The other woman and young girl resemble each other, and they must be sisters as the older one doesn’t look quite old enough to have a teenage child. Both are tiny with blonde hair and blue eyes.
“Fierce wants you to check her. Make sure she is healthy. But do not undo her restraints,” the black-haired woman orders. I realize she was in the room earlier when I refused to open my eyes. I recognize her accent, and hearing it again, I’m betting she’s Scottish by the lilt in her voice.
“Yes, Willow,” the other woman replies. “May we feed her? She is severely malnourished.”
“Yes, but again, do not let her out of her restraints. You are to make her presentable so she can be presented to Cleo.”
Cleo? Who is Cleo? My mind fumbles as I hang onto their every word, trying to catch a clue.
“She’s human, Willow, I can tell,” the older blonde points out. “I’m sure we could undo her restraints with a guard present. She’s too weak to fight anyone. Her energy is far too low.”
I close my eyes and thank the Lord. She’s a healer. Maybe the sister is, too. Closing my eyes, I reach out to listen and their energy pulses in my ears; a beat of sweet torture and relief. They’re regular humans. Maybe fate has finally decided to cut me a break. If I could just get one close enough to me, I could drink from them and escape.
“I’ll let Fierce know what you’ve said, but for now, she stays just the way she is,” Willow says as she moves toward the door at the sound of someone shouting her name in the distance. “Shit,” she groans. “Cooper is calling me. Don’t touch her until I get back,” she orders.
“I’d like to talk to Fierce again,” I call to her, my voice still hoarse.
Willow snorts and shakes her head. Stepping toward me, her cold, dark eyes scan me. “Fierce says you are of value. I have no idea why he thinks this. Do you?”
My eyes widen with shock. Why would he consider me valuable? “I have no idea,” I answer honestly.
Her tight mouth purses. “I’m not sure what is going on, but if you had anything to do with the attack on our people the other day, I will end you myself,” she hisses.
I laugh and roll my eyes. Have I warped into the Twilight zone or something? “I’ve been tied to a table for weeks. I assure you, I had nothing to do with the attack on whatever you, or your people, are.”
“Well, I suppose we shall all discover Fierce’s secret when he presents you to Cleo. For now, keep your mouth shut, or I’ll maim you.”
Let me get some blood, lady, then threaten me. Let’s see who will end who, I think. Every instinct in my body is pumping hatred for her through my veins. I would gladly welcome the chance to fight her, destroy her. But why? What is it making me loathe her, or whatever her kind is, this way? I mean yes, they are holding me prisoner, but this hate is deeper. I don’t just want to kill her, I need to kill her.
“I didn’t ask to be brought here. It was his choice. Free me, and you’ll never see me again.”
“Don’t touch her. I’ll be right back,” she says to the other two women, ignoring me, before exiting and shutting the door. The hideous scent disappears and my nausea along with it. What in the hell are they?
“Who is Cleo?” I ask the blondes on each side of me. They glance at one another, but don’t answer me.
“Do you have a name?” The younger one asks as she sets the tray on the nightstand beside the bed. I meet her steady stare and realize she’s not afraid of me.
Play nice, Aldo. Make them trust you. Pity you. “It’s Aldo,” I croak. “Please, may I have some water? I’m so thirsty.”
The younger one takes the glass and holds it to my lips, having no intention of obeying Willow’s orders. The way she’s positioned, I couldn’t bite her. She’s too far away. “I’m Rachel, and that’s my older sister Tory.” The water is cool and I drink it greedily as some of it drips down my face and chest. When she pulls away, she pauses, an odd look on her face, as if something just occurred to her. Looking at her sister, they both communicate something without words.
“Free her,” she nods.
“She said to keep her restrained,” Tory reminds her as I wonder what the hell is going on.
“Free her,” Rachel reiterates. They feel sorry for me! I look weak and sick and broken … I am those things, but they pity, me and they’re going to release me. With an audible—and very obvious sigh of disagreement—Tory begins unbuckling the cuff around my wrist, and my heart thrums in anticipation. Stay cool, Aldo.
“Fine, but you’re dealing with Willow,” Tory huffs as Rachel undoes the cuff closest to her. In under a minute I’m free and slowly sit up.
“Thank you,” I whisper. “Can one of you help me to the bathroom? I need to pee.” Which is a total lie. I haven’t had anything to drink in who knows how long, but neither of them know that.
“Tory will,” Rachel nods. I gaze at her and can’t help the feeling she’s plotting something. She’s watching me, her eyes slightly narrowed.
“Sure,” Tory gripes as she rounds the bed and bends down slightly so I can throw my arm over her shoulders. The beat of her heart vibrates through my body, and my gums ache where my fangs are trying to come out. I need blood so bad. I have to have it.
“Rach, go grab some of my clothes. Something warm for her to wear. Her skin is like ice. Be quick and don’t let anyone see you,” Tory orders as she hoists me up, her soft blonde hair brushing my cheek. As sad as it sounds, I relish the contact. It’s been so long since someone has been gentle with me. My legs are weak, but I can stand, and we walk slowly to the bathroom. Once inside, she props me against the sink to lean over and lift the toilet lid, her hair sliding off her shoulder, exposing her neck. I can’t fight it anymore. My fangs erupt. I have to drink. Quick as lightning, I step behind her, grab her head, and pull her up, making sure to cover her mouth to stifle any scream she might let out, and plunge my fangs into the soft and pulsing flesh of her neck. Her blood is clean, untainted like the blood I’ve been given the last few weeks. Immediately, I feel my body growing stronger as I drink. I’m lost in the taste of her blood. Healer blood is divine, so strong and potent. It only comes second to Daniel’s blood. Nothing will ever compare to my hybrid’s blood.
Tory’s heart is starting to slow. Let her go, Aldo. Don’t kill her. I’ve only drunk from a human twice since my transition, and both times Daniel helped me. Daniel. I close my eyes and he appears, his gray eyes and cocky smirk.
“I can’t let go,” I say to him.
“You can and you will,” Daniel assures me.
“I’m so hungry,” I say with my eyes.
“I won’t let you kill her. Do you trust me?”
“I do, but I’m too weak. I won’t be able to let go this time.”
“You promised to trust me.”
“I do.”
“Then trust me now. Remember the guy you drink from after we killed Andre?” I nod slightly. “Remember how we counted? Let’s count now. One, two . . .” He counts for me and I prepare myself for the struggle of unlatching, unsure if I can really do it.
“Eyes on me,” Daniel orders. “Eight, nine, ten,” he says softly, and he gives me a slight nod. “Let her go, Kitten.”
I close my eyes and try to unlatch myself, but nothing. Tears stream down my face as I continue to pull more blood in my mouth. I’m a murderer. I’m going to kill this poor woman that showed me so much kindness.
“Aldo!” Daniel roars. “Look at me.” I do, and his eyes are calm. There’s no panic. Just calm. “Let go,” he says with authority and just like that, I release her. Tory lulls forward, and I catch her before her head hits the toilet seat.
“Well done, Kitten.” Daniel nods with a proud smirk, then disappears.
Taking a deep breath, my heart aching I miss him so deeply, I turn Tory and sit her on the toilet. She’s pale and weak, her energy maybe as low as mine before I fed on her. My strength is back, I can feel it in my bones.
Healer blood is magic.
Flynn, Eileen, and I have been on the road for hours. Not one word has been spoken. I think they’re trying to give me time to sort this all out.
“When’s the last to time you saw Fierce?” Flynn finally breaks the silence.
I rub my face roughly trying to clear my head. “I saw him ten years back. Wasn’t that pleasant.”
If you think the sport of hunting is only a leisurely past time for humans, you’re wrong. Vampires enjoy hunting lycan, like humans hunt deer, except vampires don’t use guns and bows—they use their bare hands and teeth. To bring down a lycan is considered a true testament of a vampire’s strength. Of course, throughout the centuries, the lycan population has gotten smarter and learned how to hide.
Fierce is the son of Cleo, who rules the province, as their kind call it, for the entire South of the U.S. Cleo and his people are separatists. They prefer to live amongst themselves and stay away from the general public as much as possible. Their distaste for entering cities has propelled them into providing their own sustainable community. They grow their own fruits and vegetables, and keep their own livestock. To keep the blood lines pure, newborns are betrothed at birth. Their children are all home schooled. They might sound like backwoods hillbillies, but they’re actually intelligent beings, and they take pride in their work and their way of life. In a way they remind me of the Amish.
Most stories about werewolves tell us they only turn on full moons, and that’s mostly true. All lycans can turn, but only the eldest child of each family can turn whenever they please. But the myth about their bites being lethal to vampires is bullshit.
I’ve protected their location for decades, navigating Andre away from them when he was alive—for a price—of course. They make payments to us yearly to keep their secret. In return, if we catch wind of a nest sending a search out for them, we warn them. The last time we met, a decade ago, Fierce was just old enough to join the council, and in an effort to make a name for himself, he attempted to negotiate their payment, wanting to reduce it to a fourth of what it was. After I laughed in his face, he hit me. Not his brightest move and just before I was about to rip his head off, his father Cleo fell at my feet and begged me not to kill him. By the end of the meeting, we left with an agreement to receive fifteen percent more than we had before. Accepting money for protecting makes us sound like mobsters. But to hide an entire community of wolves is not only hard, but it put us in the position to blow our operation to take down Andre’s nest if it were ever discovered. If Xavier captured and tortured Fierce—pretty badly, judging by all the blood I found in the room—there is only one person, other than me, that knew their location. Bridge. I know without a shadow of a doubt he sold them out to Xavier.
“Would they go back to their compound?”
“If they captured Fierce, my guess is Xavier’s people attacked the fifth ward. That’s where Fierce commands. It’s also the compound closest to Xavier. I’m betting everyone from ward five went to Cleo’s, and they contacted the other wards to join them, in case there’s another attack. They have strength in numbers.”
“So there’s a chance we’re going to be fighting a shit ton of wolves?” Flynn asks from the driver’s seat. I clench my fists with his words. I hope it doesn’t come to that. I have no beef with Fierce, so long as he hasn’t hurt her. Hopefully she hasn’t reacted to the tests the doctor ran on her and isn’t now programmed to want to kill Lycan.
“We should be prepared for anything,” I answer, staring out the window. We’re about twenty miles from Cleo’s, and I don’t want the car to be seen. I’m sure they have look outs. “Pull over here. We’ll hike up the mountain.” Flynn pulls over and we climb, out each stretching, preparing ourselves for the run we’re about to take.
“Don’t kill anyone unless you need to,” I warn. “If any of them turn, it’s a fight. They only turn when they’re ready to kill.”
“We’ll get her, Daniel.” Eileen’s dainty hand squeezes my arm in assurance.
“Let’s go,” I mumble before we take off up the mountain, maneuvering our way through the thick forest. Hold on, Kitten. I’m almost there.
Tory is still slumped on the toilet, her head in her lap, as I rack my brain trying to make a plan. Nothing mattered more than energizing myself—getting blood. But now, I have to escape, and I’m up against who knows what. Tory’s body lulls forward onto me, and I take her weight.
“Come on, Tory. You should lie down,” I whisper as I pick her up, carrying her with ease to the bed I just left. I feel awful for doing this to her, especially almost killing her, but what choice do I have? It’s not like anyone around here is going to offer me a bunch of blood bags. As soon as I lie Tory down, the door flies open and Rachel stares blankly at me.
“Are you finished? We haven’t much time,” she asks calmly. I grab her, yanking her in the room and shutting the door. Slamming her against the wall, I stare deep into her eyes and immediately feel the hook. I’ll have to spell her to keep her quiet.
“You don’t have to spell me,” she says softly, throwing me for a loop. “Here.” She holds her wrist up for me, offering for me to feed. I stare at her, dumbfounded, for a moment. Who in their right mind would offer a hungry hybrid their wrist? I push her wrist away with a swipe of my hand.
“Where are we?” I’ll feel her out. Maybe I don’t need to spell her.
“This is Cleo’s province.”
“Cleo?”
“He is the crowned head.”
“Crowned head of what?” I ask aggravated.
“All Lycan of the South.”
