Rising Moon (Star Touched: Wolf Born 4), page 17
None of the others are surprised or scared by these shadow creatures.
They knew this was going to happen. They knew the extent of the horror they were unleashing.
And, apparently, they didn’t care.
Calliope’s standing now, pushing out her magic and pouring it into the gate to the Underworld. Her body’s trembling, sweat glistening on her forehead, her face twisted in concentration and pain.
The shadows twist and writhe as they form a dark vortex, a tunnel into the depths of the Underworld.
Gwen’s eyes widen, and she steps forward, hungrier than ever as she watches Calliope pour her magic into the pit to Hell.
“It’s time,” she says. “He’s coming.”
My heart pounds as Calliope turns paler by the second, my senses alert, waiting for what I know is about to happen.
And then, it does.
I step away from Tristan as a figure emerges from the heart of the darkness in a slow, agonizing process, as if the Underworld is reluctant to let him go. But inch by inch, Ambrogio’s body floats upward, surrounded by a twisting halo of dark magic. His skin is ashen, his eyes closed, and he looks every bit the corpse he is.
A collective gasp escapes our lips.
“He’s beautiful,” Zara says, tears in her eyes. “He’s just as the legends described.”
“Yes.” Gwen gazes up at him as if he’s a god. “He is.”
I can’t deny that they’re right. There’s a terrible, mesmerizing beauty to him, a grace that defies his lifeless state. But there’s something else there, too. Something dark and twisted that makes my stomach churn.
This is wrong.
I knew that coming into this. But knowing it and seeing it are two entirely different things. And, as I glance at Morgan, I see caution in her expression as well.
Calliope’s eyes are glowing red, a sign of the magic—the very essence of her soul—she’s giving to Ambrogio. She’s sacrificing herself, lost to the madness of their cause. If she succeeds, the empty shell of her that’ll remain will be nothing more than Ambrogio’s puppet.
Any trace of humanity she had was lost the moment she started giving him her magic.
Focus, my wolf snaps at me. It’s time to act—before it’s too late.
I look up at the moon and reach for my magic, spreading it through my body to become invisible.
Then I touch the ruby hanging from my neck.
Transform, I tell it, and then I’m holding the bow of the Lunar Crescent, its quiver of arrows on my back.
I nock an arrow, its ruby tip glowing with an inner light.
Time seems to slow as I draw back the bowstring. I aim high, making the arrow visible as it soars into the sky, the ruby lighting up like a flare.
It’s a signal. A beacon that it’s time to strike.
“Ruby, stop!” Tristan’s voice is filled with betrayal as he searches for me, but I can’t look back. I can’t hesitate.
I draw another arrow.
Kill, I think, letting my intention flood through the arrow and into its ruby tip.
“Calliope!” I yell, and her burning red eyes dart to where my voice is coming from, and the arrow is flying, speeding straight toward her heart.
It pierces her chest.
She releases a blood-curdling scream, the light in her eyes fades away, and she falls to the ground.
Dead.
Ambrogio’s body crashes down next to hers.
“Traitor!” Zara screams, aiming fire toward me.
I dart out of the way just in time, but my invisibility falters.
“Ruby, behind you!” a familiar voice rings through the air.
Connor. He made it.
I turn just in time to see the alpha of the Spring Creek pack—Riven—shift into a wolf and jump toward me, his jaws open wide, ready to strike.
Adrenaline surges through me, and I infuse an arrow with death, shooting it straight into his open mouth.
His blood splatters all over my face, and he crashes to the ground.
We’re on a ROLL, my wolf cheers me on in my mind.
But the chaos escalates around me, the triumph short-lived.
I glance in the direction where Connor’s voice came from, searching for him. He’s shifted into wolf form, and he’s leading the Pine Valley pack against the wolves and witches of the Blood Coven, their bodies colliding in a whirlwind of fur, teeth, magic, and blood. The Pine Valley pack—my pack—has the upper hand. Their determination and unity is giving them strength against the now leader-less Spring Creek wolves.
Then, my eyes meet Tristan’s over Riven’s dead body.
His expression is twisted with heartbreak and betrayal.
“I’m so sorry,” I tell him, because despite everything, I don’t hate him. “I had to.”
His face hardens, and the wind around us picks up, whirling and howling. “You’ve chosen your side,” he says, his voice cold. “Tell me—did you ever really love me?”
“Tristan…” my voice breaks, as does his expression, and I can see that he already knows my answer.
Then he’s blasting wind at me, a focused, brutal force that knocks me off my feet and sends me crashing to the ground.
Pain shoots through my body. But I force myself up, my eyes never leaving his.
He doesn’t spare me another glance. Instead, he turns, moving to defend Benjamin and Gwen, who have Ambrogio’s body and are retreating toward the forest.
I throw off the stupid crimson robe and run after them, although after all the magic I used with the Lunar Crescent, they’re far faster than me. I’ve used more energy that I realized. But I can’t let them get away.
I just need one more shot.
So, I nock the arrow and infuse the ruby with intent to kill, my wolf howling inside me as I tune into my target.
Ambrogio.
Gwen’s carrying him on her back, his ashen body as limp as a rag doll. If she gets away with him, she’ll do anything to revive him. But it’s not too late to stop them. They’re not to the forest yet…
I aim and release, the arrow singing through the air. My earth magic stretches out with it, a part of me riding along its path, willing it to find its mark.
The arrow embeds itself into Ambrogio’s body with a sickening thud.
The death magic activates.
Gwen stumbles. But she doesn’t drop him.
Instead, the four of them—Gwen, Benjamin, Tristan, and Ambrogio—disappear in a blur into the forest.
They’re gone so fast that I don’t have time to call the arrow back to me.
But the death magic hit Ambrogio. The resurrection failed. He’s not coming back.
And now, I need to make sure that my allies, my pack, and I take down our enemies and get out of this hellhole alive.
Ruby
I wipe more of Riven’s blood off my face and turn back to the chaos.
My wolf thrums with satisfaction as I hear the howls of our enemies, their bodies falling to the ground. Connor tears anyone who comes at him to shreds, his fur matted with their blood.
My mate is sexy as all hell in battle.
Then I see a movement out of the corner of my eye.
Zara.
Her eyes blaze with fury as she sends fireballs toward me. But I dodge them with ease, using my earth magic to create barriers around me and suffocate her flames.
An anguished scream pierces the air.
Hazel.
She’s fallen onto her knees, her body wracked with sobs, hunched over two people on the ground who look very, very dead.
Her parents.
I don’t like Hazel. That’s no secret. But what I’m seeing right now isn’t something I’d wish on anyone in the world.
Willow and Zara rush to Hazel’s side, protecting her from attacks. I don’t see Morgan anywhere, but the Pine Valley pack knows she’s on our side. Same with Thalia and her shifter boyfriend, Gunnar. Connor made it explicitly clear that if anyone touches the three of them, they’ll answer to him.
The ground quakes.
Fire lights up the garden-turned-battlefield.
Darkness moves in shadows around us.
I turn back to the fight… where Connor’s facing off against three large Spring Creek wolves. He’s dodging them and holding them off with teeth and earth magic, but he’s outnumbered.
Help him, my wolf thinks, but I’m already on it.
I reach for another arrow and nock it, focusing on my target before releasing it with all the power I can muster. I’m getting too weak for death magic, and my hold on the Lunar Crescent is waning, likely because the shadow creatures leaking out of the crack in the ground are dimming the light from the moon. But I can still cause pain. And, if I strike at the correct angle, I can still kill.
The ruby glows as the arrow streaks toward its mark—the wolf closest to Connor.
It pierces the wolf directly into its flank. He howls in agony, his body contorting in pain before he falls to the ground, dead.
That’s what he gets for trying to kill my mate.
Connor charges forward and tears into the other two wolves with a ferociousness that takes my breath away — all while dodging their lethal blows.
It doesn’t take long for him to kill them both.
But we don’t have time to celebrate. Because bright orange light flashes out of the corner of my eye, and I turn to see what’s going on.
Zara, Willow, Morgan, and Hazel are standing back-to-back in a ring of fire, sending wave after wave of fireballs at anyone who tries to attack. Hazel’s in a rage, her body crackling with energy, like an angry fire goddess.
Morgan uses her magic to create a fiery shield around the group while also defending against any attacks. But even though she’s defending her sisters, she doesn’t kill, or even maim.
Willow creates blazes that keep attackers at bay, while Zara hurls fireballs from within the flames.
I reach for an arrow, ready to aim at Hazel, but I can’t do it.
I’ve been through too much with her. And she’s not evil, like Calliope and Gwen. She was misled. Vulnerable. Impressionable. She’s hardly my friend, but I can’t bring myself to kill her.
“Stop!” I call out to her, infusing something into my voice that I didn’t even know I had until now—alpha willpower. “Yield.”
Hazel’s eyes narrow.
“That doesn’t work on witches,” she snarls, and then she looks to the others, gathering strength. “We need to get out of here. Help me.”
The fire grows around them like a living, breathing thing. It crackles and pops, smoke filling the air, joining together at the top like it’s trying to touch the stars.
It extinguishes in an instant.
The only one left standing is Morgan, alone in the circle of charred earth, looking after her sisters with tears streaming down her face.
“Morgan!” I call out, and I lower the Lunar Crescent to my side, running to her.
When I get to her, I see something shining in her hand.
The Blade of Erebus.
“Hazel was distracted by what happened to her parents,” Morgan says, gazing down at the weapon in shock. “I… took it from her. At the last second.”
“It’s yours now.” I gaze around at the charred ground—any greenery that was on it before is gone. Wiped out. Just like Hazel, Zara, and Willow. “Did they…?”
“Kill themselves?” Morgan asks, and I nod slowly. “No. They fire jumped.”
“Fire jumped?”
“Teleported. In a burst of fire.”
“I didn’t know that was possible.”
“It’s rare magic,” Morgan says. “But Hazel is powerful, and her emotions were heightened. Magic feeds off emotions.”
“Right. Of course it does.” I want to ask more, but too much is happening at once.
Over where the shifters are still fighting, only two of them left are from Spring Creek.
Connor sinks his teeth into one of their necks, and Thalia blasts fire at another—holding him off for long enough that Gunnar can fully take him down.
Wow.
Connor told me that Thalia was more powerful than she let on. But I didn’t realize she could do that.
One by one, the Pine Valley shifters look around and shift back into their human forms. Connor is the last, and the relief that crosses his eyes when they meet mine makes my heart leap into my throat.
It’s over.
We won.
We run toward each other, meeting in the middle, and he checks me for injuries. It’s unnecessary, given how fast we can heal, but it’s sweet, nonetheless.
“You were amazing,” he says, and then he crushes his lips to mine, as if verifying that I’m truly all right.
“I struck Ambrogio with one of my death arrows,” I tell him. “The vampires left with his corpse, but they can’t bring him back.”
Suddenly, Morgan screams.
I jump out of Connor’s arms, reach for an arrow, and raise the Lunar Crescent.
Brandon—Connor’s beta—is charging towards Morgan in his wolf form with a crazed look in his eyes.
No.
I can’t aim to kill. He’s a member of our pack. It goes against every alpha instinct to turn on our own like that.
Pain, I think, and then I release the arrow, using my earth magic to guide it into Brandon’s shoulder.
His anguished howl echoes through the night, and he falls to the ground.
Morgan is feet away from him, a fireball burning in one hand, the Blade of Erebus raised with the other.
Anger swirls in Connor’s eyes. “Shift,” he commands, and when Brandon returns to human form, he’s curled on the ground in pain.
The arrow’s still sticking out of him.
Connor and I march over to him, and I kneel next to Brandon, but don’t pull out the arrow.
He grunts and groans, his eyes closed tight, his teeth clenched in agony. Beads of sweat drip down his brow all the way to his chin. The skin around the arrowhead is red and inflamed, but he’s so paralyzed with pain that he can’t move to pull it out.
“You attacked one of our allies,” I say slowly, carefully.
“Not… an… ally.” He strains to get out each word.
His face is so pale that I wonder if he’s going to pass out from the pain.
“Look at me!” I command, and when he does, his eyes are wild and crazed. “Why did you attack Morgan?”
His chest heaves, and instead of speaking, he releases a long, deep groan.
His eyes roll into the back of his head.
“That’s enough,” Connor says. “Take it out.”
Personally, I think Brandon deserves a few more minutes of this torture. But I remove the arrow with a sickening suction sound, wipe it off on my pants, and stand back up.
Brandon releases a guttural scream and reaches for the wound, holding it tightly. Eventually, his breathing slows, and his muscles relax. The pain is still there on his face, but he should be able to speak.
“Why did you attack Morgan?” Connor asks again, his voice low and steady.
“She’s not one of us,” Brandon says. “She can’t be trusted.”
Morgan’s by my side, gripping the Blade of Erebus as if she’s ready for Brandon to attack again.
The other members of the Pine Valley pack watch behind us in silence.
As all of this is happening, more and more shadow creatures are leaking out of the crack in the ground. It’s eerie, especially now that the battle’s ended and I can hear their hushed whispers in the night.
“I am your alpha,” Connor seethes down at Brandon. “I decide who can and can’t be trusted.”
Brandon tries to sit up, but Connor forces him back down with a foot on his chest.
“You have no right to question my decisions. Especially in the heat of battle.”
“I follow my alpha.” Brandon struggles to breathe under Connor’s hold. “But I don’t follow blindly.”
The air grows tense, and I feel the pack’s eyes on us, their breaths held, waiting for Connor’s decision.
Connor remains focused on Brandon, his gaze hard and unyielding. “You were my beta,” he finally says. “I trusted you. I’ve trusted you for my entire life. But you betrayed that trust less than a week after I assumed command of this pack.”
“Connor, please,” Brandon pleads. “The witch played a part in raising that… thing. I did what I thought was right.”
“The witch’s name is Morgan.” I string the bow with the arrow, enjoying the way he flinches when I do. “We didn’t give her our trust lightly. She earned it by risking herself not just to help the pack, but by fighting by our side to stop that ‘thing’ from fully rising.”
Morgan steps closer to me, supporting me.
“I’m sorry.” Brandon quivers under Connor’s boot, tears glimmering in his eyes.
“You disobeyed a direct order,” Connor says, unmoved by Brandon’s pleas. “You attacked an ally. You cannot be trusted as my beta.”
“What are you saying?” He glances at the other pack members for help, but none of them speak up.
Connor presses down on his chest harder, forcing him to look back at him.
“I want you to leave and never return,” he says, strong and sure. “Because by the decree of your alpha, you’re banished from the Pine Valley pack.”
Ruby
Brandon’s face goes white, and a sob escapes his lips.
“Connor,” he cries, but Connor simply gives him another push with his boot, releases him, and turns to look at the rest of the wolves in the pack.
“Tyler,” he calls out. “Come forward.”
A strong, dark-haired shifter who looks to be around our age steps forward, uncertainty in his eyes.
“We’ve known each other for our entire lives, and during that time, you’ve proven your loyalty, power, and wisdom,” Connor says. “I choose you as my new beta.”
Tyler’s eyes widen in surprise, but his expression quickly shifts to one of understanding and acceptance.
“Thank you, Alpha,” he says, bowing his head. “I won’t let you down.”
“I know.” Connor gives him a single nod, and Tyler steps back in line with the others.
I can’t help but feel a rush of affection and attraction toward my mate as he asserts his dominance as alpha.
