Savage Fate (Den of Shadows #5)

Chapter 12

Chapter

Twelve

The first skalae who reached me went straight for my neck, biting at the air as I held him back. Hot, foul saliva dripped on my throat, and I shuddered.

These things weren’t messing around. They really wanted to devour me like a juicy steak.

“I don’t taste that good, fellas.” I elbowed him off and spun as the second skalae tried to take a bite out of my arm, his jagged teeth grazing my skin.

My blade swung through the air and decapitated him. His head knocked into the third one, still skuttling on the ground. His irises burned a deeper shade of crimson as he let out a high-pitched shriek.

I winced and nearly lost my balance as sharp pain lanced through my eardrums.

What the hell? Was he part banshee?

While I recovered from the piercing blast, the first sub-demon charged again. I slammed the tip of the blade into his sternum and then used my talons to rip his head off while he was busy trying to shove my sword out of him.

As the third skalae opened his maw to release another scream, I lunged forward.

We tumbled to the ground, and I forced him to his stomach. My claws sank into his back, black blood spraying my face. Adrenaline coursed through me as I lifted my blade, brought it to his neck, and beheaded him.

His bald, bulbous head rolled into a tree trunk.

My pulse spiked as a ferocious snarl erupted through the woods.

Shit. Saint.

I staggered up and pivoted toward him to help but stopped in my tracks when he spit out a chunk of pale demon flesh. Blood glistened on his muzzle and speckled his paws.

All three skalaes he fought were dead.

“Oh. I guess you’re done.” I wiped the blade on my jeans before using the rune to deactivate it. “No need for my assistance.”

Pops and cracks sounded as Saint shifted back into his human form and stood on his feet. Black blood streaked him, but he seemed perfectly fine.

And perfectly naked.

Beneath the demon grime, colorful tattoos inked his arms and chest. Sharp muscles coiled around his broad frame.

Heat rose into my cheeks, and I forced my gaze to remain on his as humor blossomed across his face.

Do not look down.

“I told you I could handle myself.” He grabbed his jeans from the ground and stuck a leg through each side. “But it’s sweet that you wanted to help.”

My brows slammed down. “I’m not sweet. I just didn’t want to be blamed for—” The wind blew, bringing with it a familiar scent of death and rot. And it wasn’t coming from the sub-demons we just slaughtered.

Having both detected the smell, we darted to the right, where one group of the skalaes had come from. After following the trail, we stopped at a twisted lump on the ground, and Saint cursed.

“Is he like the others?”

Another deceased shifter lay twisted and broken among the forest bracken. I squatted and turned the guy—a bitten coyote shifter—over, frost spreading down my nape.

“Definitely.”

Stab wounds littered his flesh, blood stained his jeans and t-shirt, and his heart was missing.

Saint’s nostrils flared as his bloody fists trembled. “These sub-demons aren’t that smart. Someone else had to have dropped this corpse off, a higher-level demon or another type of nightworlder.”

I raked a hand down my face, gritting my teeth. “If that’s the case, I’m seriously doubting The Collective Hunt’s involvement.”

I startled awake and blinked to adjust to the darkness of the familiar room. The other side of the bed was cold, and Fane wasn’t on the floor either. In fact, the jerkface wasn’t anywhere in Mohan Wilds. The flood of anxiety and nervous energy coursing through my veins told me that.

The bond did not like us being separated.

I sat up and dragged my fingers through my hair, clenching my jaw. If he didn’t return soon, I’d pop out of my body and find his ass. Did he even know more sub-demons had been found in Mohan Wilds or that another dead shifter had turned up?

After Saint and I alerted Camus, he and Beckett hauled the corpse off to the healers to be examined. As suspected, the heart had been cut out with a knife.

Someone was killing shifters, and this was the second corpse to be found among demons. The skalaes weren’t responsible for cutting out hearts with a knife, but a dux demon or higher was very capable of that.

I flung the covers off and stood, knowing I wouldn’t get a wink more of sleep. Instead of aimlessly wandering the house, I headed to Fane’s art studio to check out his latest works. Maybe I’d make one of my own.

A snort slipped out. Yeah right. Mine would look like a child’s finger painting next to his.

I crossed the threshold into the room and flipped on the light, the scent of paint and Fane swirling up my nose. Part of me had stupidly hoped he was standing at the easel, lost in one of his paintings. But the room was empty.

My heart sank as I moved toward the easel near the window and lifted the drop cloth to reveal a moody work in shades of gray, black, and blue. The beginning of a scene took shape.

I gently ran my fingers over the dried brush strokes. The angry slashes whipped across the canvas, and I could practically feel Fane’s frustration. The scene wasn’t finished, because he couldn’t remember it.

Within the edges of the painting, Heldrok’s cafeteria showed through. He must have recalled something about our time there, but the images were too vague or unfocused to grab hold of.

A pang squeezed my heart picturing him trying so hard to recover what he’d lost.

I choked back the lump clogging my throat and lowered the drop cloth onto the canvas.

As soon as I turned to search the finished paintings propped against the wall, Fane’s art studio blurred out of focus, and it suddenly felt like I was falling through a black tunnel…

Panic twisted through my insides and slid around my neck as I ran through a maze of hallways, the slick black walls sucking up most of the light. I flexed my fingers, but my claws wouldn’t breach my skin.

Why the hell couldn’t my tiger break free?

I leaned against a wall, breathing heavily while clutching my chest as I tried to connect with my shifter. Her presence had been faint ever since I woke up bound on the floor of that room. I thought they’d somehow cut her out of me.

But she was still there, buried too deeply.

A low laugh slithered down the corridor behind me.

Shit!

They found me.

I bolted forward, my bare feet slapping the hardwoods. Another round of laughter echoed, but this time, it came from the direction I was running in.

My feet stumbled to a halt, blond hair flying in my face. They were coming at me from both directions.

What did they want?

As the swishing of fabric sounded within the shadows down each side of the hall, the fight drained out of me. I didn’t stand a chance against multiple enemies without shifting. I didn’t have a weapon either.

“Why are you doing this!” I screamed, hot tears blurring my vision. “Just let me go.”

A massive figure dressed in a black cloak emerged from the darkness. “Why would I ever let such a prize go?” His rough, beastly voice, something unnatural distorting it, poured prickles over my scalp. “I can’t wait to see what you bring us.” The unnerving white mask obscuring his face had chills slinking down each vertebra.

Not knowing what was behind the blank facade was worse. My senses were muddled, and I couldn’t tell what kind of creatures they were.

They weren’t human. I was certain. They were too strong and moved like shadows.

Evil.

That was the only thing I detected from them.

“I won’t be bringing you shit.” I spun to try my chances with the creatures down the hall, but he gripped my hair and yanked me toward him before I could get more than a foot away.

Pain burst through my scalp, and I screamed as he caught me around the middle and hauled me against him.

“Scream all you want.” He breathed me in, the mask hot against my cheek. “I prefer you to be afraid. It’ll make this so much more satisfying.”

More figures glided forward, all dressed in masks and cloaks to hide their identities. They even wore leather gloves.

Acid oozed up my throat as I pictured scales and claws behind the leather.

Were they demons?

“Let’s go.” He picked me up, my legs kicking in the air as I tried to break free. “Grab her.”

Two of his minions gripped my feet to restrain my movements. They carried me back through the hallways, tears streaming down my cheeks and splattering the floor.

I could practically feel their satisfaction at my weeping.

“Who are you? What do you want?” I prodded again, searching for anything I could use against them. “Are you demons? Witches?”

The man’s laughter curdled my stomach. “That doesn’t matter.”

As they dragged me into a different room, I caught my reflection in a decorative mirror on the slick wall. My blond hair was a tangled mess, and a scrape marred my left cheek from when I slammed against the pavement.

I’d been walking home from the bar when they surrounded me. Before I could reach for my shifter, my muscles had weakened, and I collapsed.

“You won’t get away with this,” I hissed as they tossed me onto a metal table. “I belong to a big pack. They’ll come looking for me.”

“And it’ll be too late, Alison.”

I stumbled back and hit the couch as I returned to reality, my pulse racing and sweat dampening my skin. That had been the longest, most detailed vision of them all. I actually saw the shifter and got a name.

Was that real or a nightmare she’d had, some deep-seated fear?

A bunch of shifters seemed to share the same fear…

As theories whirled in my mind, a sinking feeling hit my gut. I dragged a hand down my face, needing to talk to Fane. Did he feel my panic through the bond?

I took a heavy breath, and my lids fluttered as I attempted to separate from my body to find him, but just as my consciousness began to drift, something tugged me back.

I jumped off the couch and bolted to the window before I could form a coherent thought.

My stomach clenched when Saint appeared, walking down the street with his hands in his jean pockets and head bowed. The streetlights cast a glow over him and highlighted his currently sullen features.

Why was he out walking alone in the middle of the night?

And why the hell did I care?