Blood Rage, page 30
“Rayne—”
“I need you to trust me now. Let me help you. Let us try. You never know, Fiona might be able to make something work. Imagine if we could do something that no one else has ever done before.”
“How often does that happen?”
She smiles the smallest of half smiles. “I can control my blood mania. How many vampires have done that before me?”
“I—” But she’s right. I can’t think of a single example before now of a vampire successfully pulling themselves back from the brink of an anger induced rage without blood to soothe them.
Maybe…just maybe.
No. I shake my head. I can’t allow myself to hope like that. I can’t face that level of disappointment. No. I won’t.
But for her…
I touch her cheek. “When this doesn’t work—”
“If,” she insists.
Eye roll. “If this doesn’t work, I want you to do it. I want you to end it.”
Her eyes widen slightly. “Danika—”
“You agree to this right now, or I’m not doing it. I’ll jump from this car and run back to Clear Blood myself. When…if this doesn’t work, I want you to be the one to finish me off.” My voice drops to a low whisper. “If anybody is going to save the world, I want it to be you. Not SPEAR, not Clear Blood, not the fucking general. I want you to get the credit. No one else, understand?”
Long, tense silence.
Eventually, she holds up her hand, fingers all folded down but for the pinkie, which she extends towards me.
I mirror the gesture and link my pinkie finger through hers.
“On my word or meet the sunlight,” she murmurs.
Hmm. Not quite as good as my locs one, but it will do.
Chapter Thirty
I have no idea where we’re going. What I do know is that changing cars has me dizzy and disoriented. We have changed directions so many times that I barely know which way is north. More than that, this is our third car. Noel insists on changing vehicles in case we’re being followed, and no matter how often I ask who they belong to, he simply taps the side of his nose.
The last car is a tiny, scrappy little thing, blue where it isn’t covered in rust, with next to no suspension and certainly no sign of smart brakes.
Rayne sits in the back with me, one arm across my chest as if to keep me from flying out of my seat. It is such a small but motherly gesture that I find that warm feeling swelling through my chest again. It almost hurts, but in a good way.
At the last stop a motorcycle parked up alongside us seats a figure dressed entirely in leather. Their huge helmet covers their face and head so I can see nothing but a reflection as I glance at them. But they raise a gloved thumb to us and pull away slowly, allowing us to follow.
“Who is that?”
Rayne shrugs.
And follow we do. The bike winds through streets popping out of Angbec on the side opposite to our arrival from Moarwell the night before.
We’re south now and heading further in that direction, towards areas of countryside walks, hiking, and woodland conservation.
Not too far, though, and once we change to the last car, the drive is a mere fifteen minutes more. The bike stops outside a gated track at the end of a narrow slip off the main road. The sign there reads Wild Dyke Campsite.
Never heard of the place, but beyond the gate I can see a small cluster of wooden structures along with a huge sloping thing that might be a tent. Or a wigwam. Or a yurt. Who even knows?
The rider dismounts and yanks off their gloves, teasing the fingers one by one to make it easier. Then they lift the helmet off their head.
“Hi, Karson.”
I throw open the car’s creaking passenger door and dart out on the dirt road. “Maury?”
He grins. “Sorry to keep you.” His shiny bald head gleams in the moonlight. “I just wanted to be sure there was no one following us. And to give the others time to set up.”
“Since when were you cool enough to ride a motorcycle?”
“Ha. There’s a lot about me you don’t know. Let’s leave it at that.”
“But what the hell are you doing?”
He gestures to the gate, which he opens with a key from the bunch on his bike. “My cousin runs this campsite for Scout holidays. Sometimes the local druids meet here for the solstices too. Mostly it’s just a place where people gather around a fire and use the tents, but apparently, it’s an area of power.”
“What does that mean?”
Shrug. “No idea, but I’m not going to question the people who know better than me. You need to get inside so I can lock the gate. We don’t want to be disturbed.”
“But the general. How did you—”
“Screw them.” His expression darkens. “I get it, really I do, but you’re one of mine, and I’m not letting you go without a fight. Hell, if you aren’t enough of a pain in my backside, I want all that stress and agony to be worth it. You’ve got years left in you yet.”
I smile. Can’t help it.
Rayne beckons me back to the car. “Nobody is ready to give up on you yet, Danika.”
I nod and climb back in.
Maury opens the gate, swings it wide enough to pass through, and Noel does just that. Through the back window, I catch site of Maury closing the gate before a turn in the road hides him from sight.
The road slants slightly upward, winding through tall deciduous trees towards a ridge just visible as a dark line against the sky. Along it, more trees, and the road continues to the right and curves down again in a shallow arc towards those structures I saw from the gates.
Definitely tents or yurts or something along those lines. I can see how they would be useful for Scout and Girl Guide trips, or cheap trips away.
But in the middle of them all is a wide clear space where several people have already gathered. They are milling around, talking softly, though one seems to be walking in a circle flinging something into the air with every step.
Noel stops the car, and we climb out together, leaving the vehicle parked on the slope to meet the gathering between the semi-permanent tents. The way down is well-lit with lamps, designed to look like fiery torches or old-fashioned oil lamps, but clearly lit with electricity. There are more of them down below, and each of the structures has a light to the front, to illuminate the scene below.
I gasp.
My entire team is there, the whole of Kappa, talking quietly amongst themselves. Not only are they present, but so too are other people I recognise, from Jadz to Spannah and Chalks. I see Tina Marks of the Angbec police force and Delta members of SPEAR who usually sit at desks. I see the grumpy nurse who cared for me after Vixen tried to drain me dry, and a short, bored looking man who, after some study, I recognise to be a detective sergeant, again from the police force. Hozier, was it?
Looking closer, I spy Link, our chief agent in charge of combat training. He stands head and shoulders above the rest with his impressive wings capped over his shoulders to share space. Close by, looking still shorter by comparison, is Shakka, who holds animated conversation with Erkyan.
I see Gina, Ingrid, and Opal of the Loup Garou, along with several others, close to Solo and Duo with their wildly coloured hair. In fact, I see one figure with yellow hair, another with green, a third with blue, and a fourth with purple. A literal rainbow of colours.
The figure with purple hair is the first among them to face me, and she does so with a smile and a limp as she walks towards me. Limp?
“I know you,” I find myself saying as we meet on the path. “What are you doing here? Don’t you live in Moarwell?”
“I wondered if you’d remember me or if you even noticed me.” Where before this woman was crouched and timid, she is now tall and straight backed. Sure, her limp is still there, but in the context of the others around her, I can’t believe I didn’t earlier notice the edane ease and smoothness to her movements.
“You’re a werewolf?”
“Fire Fang,” she says softly. “And yes, I live in Moarwell. It isn’t a problem, usually, unless someone comes and stirs things up. I live there quite peacefully, keeping an eye on the residents, minding my own business.”
I nod, quietly impressed. “I had no idea.”
“Good. You weren’t supposed to.”
“But what are you doing here?”
A soft, gentle smile in my direction. “My brothers called me for help, and I answered. More than that, though, I happened to be positioned to bring along some other people who wanted to help.”
She points, but before I can see where her finger aims, Solo bounds over and flings an arm around the woman’s shoulders. “Don’t be modest, Sess, you’re a lifesaver over there. Those idiots in that village don’t know the guardian angel they have in you.” He grins, flashing sharp, white teeth.
“I brought more able bodies,” she says, utterly ignoring him. “When they realised what Linda had done and where I would be going, they wanted to lend their support.”
At last I can see who she means. Bruce and Kimberly Dixon stand near one of the yurts, talking softly with Viola. There is someone else with them who I don’t know, though they wear plenty of leather and chains and boast several piercings. Viola’s paramour, maybe?
I snap a glance at Rayne.
She sighs. “It didn’t take long for them to realise what Linda did. She went back to Moarwell boasting about it. They got on the train at once and made their way to Fiona.”
It’s hard to believe. These people I met barely forty-eight hours before, acting so kindly and selflessly to help me.
Do they know what they’re doing? Do they understand what they’re getting into? Are they even aware of the risks?
I tug Rayne slightly aside. “You shouldn’t have let them come.”
Her look back at me is quiet but defiant. “Would you have stopped them? Besides, this isn’t for you—they’re doing it for me. They know what you mean to me.”
I don’t know how to argue with that. I don’t know if I can argue with that, but still it rubs me the wrong way.
“I didn’t force them to be here. They chose to come, same as everybody else on this campsite.” She lifts a hand to gesture around her. “Fiona has told them what we’re up against. She explained that nobody really knows what we’re doing. But they’re here anyway. Why can’t you accept that?”
Because why the ever-loving hell would all these people endanger themselves for me?
But I don’t say that. Instead I turn to the purple-haired woman. “We didn’t get a chance to speak before. Hi, and thanks for coming down, I guess.”
“My name is Sestina,” she says with a little flick of that purple hair. She tries to work herself free of Solo’s grip and gives up when he grips all the harder. “And I’m sorry it’s come to this. I did my best to talk Linda down, but she never listens to the likes of me. Sure, I could have given her reason to, but”—she gives an apologetic half smile—“I prefer to keep my little secret.”
“Uh, don’t worry about it,” I stutter, watching her and Solo move together.
They have an easy grace about them, a beauty and economy of movement alongside each other that speaks of long practise or—I gasp.
“Are you related as well?”
Sestina roars with laughter. “To this idiot? No. Well, yes and no. We’re of a pack, yes, but we’re also xiblings.”
I remember that word. It’s how the twins described the other pack members who share a close mental bond with them. With that I look again at the small cluster of people with brightly coloured hair and realise what I must be looking at.
“You’re all xiblings?”
Duo joins us, ruffling his own orange hair with one hand while dragging the yellow-haired woman along with him. Well, more blond than yellow. She might have the most normal hair colour of the lot of them. “Yup. All of us.” He smiles. “Solo and I, then Trioka”—he gestures to the yellow-haired woman—“then Tetrad, Quintain”—green and blue, both male—“and lastly, resident grumpy pants, Sestina.”
At my side, Rayne hides a giggle behind the back of her hand.
Noel is nowhere near as subtle. “You all have number names, sí? Why? You are like little pins lined up in a row; one, two, three, four, five, and six.”
Solo gives a bark of laughter. “Those aren’t our real names, dumbass, those are titles. You really think I go through my actual life called Solo?”
Actually I did, but I decide not to tell him that.
He shakes his head. “Anyway, that’s what we call each other, and that’s what we use in the pack. Just makes things easier when we’re thinking about power and strength.”
“And mating lines,” Duo adds with a grin.
Sestina rolls her eyes. “Gross.”
“But true,” Quintain adds. His blue hair is waist length and captured at the back of his neck with a single simple ribbon. “I don’t know why I’m so far down the line…”
“Because finding a match for you is like looking for candy at a salad bar. You’re impossible to please.” This from Trioka who is soft-spoken yet shaped like a bodybuilder.
“And everybody knows that I’ll find a mate before you do, so it makes sense for me to go ahead of you.” Tetrad gives a wicked grin. He has several missing teeth and a bold tattoo running up the side of his neck that flexes as he talks.
“Bullshit you’ll go ahead of me—”
“Now, now, boys, calm down—”
“He started it—”
“Well, you should end it—”
And with that, the six of them fall to bickering amongst themselves. I remember, then, the journey to Moarwell in the van. Well, if this is what life is like with all six of them together, I’m glad that I’ve only ever been exposed to two of them at once.
Rayne tugs me on and away from the twittering xiblings and draws me towards that figure still throwing things into the air.
It’s Fiona. She wears a long white robe like a nightgown and has her masses of long hair gathered up into a messy pile on the top of her head. She carries a huge tin in one hand and occasionally dips into it to toss handfuls of the contents into the air or to scatter them onto the ground.
When she sees me, she slams the tin onto the floor and rushes up to me. This close I can see that her hands are still bandaged, but that doesn’t stop her from carefully drawing me into an enthusiastic hug.
“Child, I am so very sorry.” Her face sparkles with sweat and possibly tears. “I had no idea. I didn’t know. I will never forgive myself for what I’ve put you through over the last few hours.”
“It’s not your fault,” I murmur.
“I shouldn’t have said anything. I should’ve waited until I knew more. I could have kept the knowledge in my own mind until I knew better what to do. Instead I opened my mouth and out comes your undoing. Will you ever forgive me?”
I touch her bandaged hands. “I should be the sorry one. Look what this thing did to you.”
“Ah, it is a risk of the job, child. I wouldn’t be a psychic if everything I did was easy. Besides, I’ve learned more from you in that one simple touch than I have in doing anything else. You led me to look at texts I never before considered, researching and learning of all manner of banishment and cleansing rituals.”
That spark of hope ignites in my chest again.
I slam it down without mercy.
This isn’t going to work. I can’t let myself believe for even an instant that it will.
“You’re a witch?” I ask.
Fiona places a hand on her chest. If I didn’t know any better, I would say she was deeply flattered. “Me? Oh no, no. I don’t have that sort of power. But I have borrowed the mind and teachings of one, if that’s all right.” She gestures past me to a little dark-haired figure chatting with Hozier.
Wait, really?
As if sensing the attention on her, Tina Marks turns to face me. I remember her, first for being one of the few civilian police officers willing to help me find Vixen, again for somehow always being the officer on call when I contact the Angbec police force. I also remember her handing me a chocolate bar and a sandwich through the bars of a holding cell in the bottom of the police station.
She grins and scuffs her foot along the ground, even looking a little bashful. “Hello.”
“You’re a witch?”
A shrug. “I would have told you, but it never really came up. Besides, every time I’ve seen you, there’s been more than enough on your plate to deal with, wouldn’t you say?”
Rayne clings to my arm. “There are banishing and cleansing rituals she says might work.”
This time, an enthusiastic nod. “Oh yeah. I’ve called up things I’ve never meant to in the past, so surely this can’t be too much harder than that.”
I grit my teeth. “But this is stronger than anything you’ve called before. You must know that.”
“Oh, I know.” Her eyes take on a steely determination. “But that’s why there’s so many of us. If this thing is so powerful, then we’ll just need more of us to draw from. Are you ready?”
No. No, I’m not.
This whole thing is insane and now dozens more people are going to be in danger because of me.
Without warning I turn to the side, breaking away from Rayne to vomit hard against the stony earth.
Chapter Thirty-one
My back prickles as if in warning, and a horrible cold sensation seems to seep through my bones.
I hate this. This is dumb. It can’t work. It won’t work.
Disturbed by the unusual motion, Norma crawls her way out from inside the back of my hood. She grumbles softly, that throaty growl at the back of her throat, before hopping down to the ground.
She sniffs at the puddle, then stalks away, making her way to Hawk, who greets her with smiles, pets, and cuddles beneath his own large wings.
