Chapter 71
Caster had been on the receiving end of Riley’s full power before, but as it carried his essence through time, he found renewed respect for it.
One second, he’d been holding on to Mark’s hand, the tingling effect of Riley’s power raising goosebumps on his skin, the next, he was flying.
His body, their bodies remained rooted to the Prime Alpha’s living room with the others.
Their essence, their life force, traveled past the confines of time.
He didn’t question how Riley knew where to go. He’d learned long ago that the answer would be too complicated for words. But he trusted Riley enough that he experienced no fear. Mark seemed to have also grown to trust Riley, a fact that could mean improved relations between their species.
The first indication their journey was complete was the sound of Mark’s voice coming from outside Riley’s power.
He opened eyes he’d been holding shut, and an unfamiliar scene invaded his senses.
It was a clearing, surrounded by a forest. In the middle of it stood a nude Mark and another wolf. Zeke?
Mark had never described him. He was as tall as Mark, the perfect coif of muscles that every wolf concealed in human form sculpting his nude form to perfection.
His blonde hair glowed under the diminishing light of the early evening.
His smile was warm, lighting up his blue eyes with an expression Caster understood well enough.
He felt it every time he looked at Mark.
They spoke to each other with a familiarity that brought unwanted envy to the fore. Zeke moved behind a lush bush and pulled out a bundle. They continued to speak, but the content of their words was unwilling to penetrate Riley’s magic.
Riley’s whispered Latin words drew his attention from Mark’s memory as they covered their nude forms in quick actions.
Riley repeated the words, and a howling wind reached his ear, as did the words on Mark’s lips.
“…you’re not going to tell me?” The smile in those words, the smile on Mark’s face, a version of Mark he hadn’t met yet, made his heart ache.
This night had made his joy rare, a state of affairs Caster wished to remedy.
“No.” Zeke reached for Mark’s hand, and Caster glanced at present-day Mark. His face, detached from his body, was devoid of expression, of the emotion the memory had to invoke.
He wanted to reach for his hand, but in this form, there would be little comfort in that.
Zeke drew Mark away from the clearing, the considerable distance to their waiting vehicle passing in a blur as he floated along to follow.
He didn’t release Mark’s hand even as he drove to their destination.
Caster knew it. Mark’s recollection of the park, of what was coming, had made it plain.
It had been the theater of the witch’s evil.
Darkness had descended, twilight replaced by moonlight, by the time they made it to the location. Again, he glanced at Mark, wishing he could reassure him, but he’d left his corporeal form in the distant future. In this form, all they could do was witness the past, witness Mark’s memory of it.
Zeke and Mark, the memory of them, laughed as they walked away from their vehicle, Mark’s full trust on display as he allowed Zeke to lead the way.
Mark started to sit on the bench in the middle of the park, but Zeke grabbed his arm, pulling him closer. “You know, I love you, right?”
The frown on Mark’s face was familiar. “Zeke, what’s wrong?”
The other wolf shook his head, his expression one Caster had seen before.
Whatever he wanted to share with Mark weighed on his conscience.
He closed his eyes, took a breath, and opened them.
But just as he seemed to gather his courage, a strong gust imposed its presence on the scene, so strong, the wolves swayed into each other.
Mark’s description of a weighted air made sense as the unnatural wind continued to howl its intent. Caster could not have contained his gasp or his desire to grab hold of both versions of Mark and never let go if he’d wanted to. The gust sharpened as vampires materialized from the weighted air.
The memory of Mark gasped, tearing away from Zeke’s hold, his stance a signal he was ready for battle. The vampires, seven, not six, all Born-Vampires, moved through the park in a blur that even Riley’s magical bubble could not sharpen.
Mark growled, but when Caster turned to the projection that was present-day Mark, his expression remained impassive.
The past Mark moved like the warrior he’d proven himself to be and had one of the vampires by the neck, and the others stopped, encircling him.
He didn’t seem fazed by their insurmountable threat.
His growl tore through the heavy air, and Caster couldn’t contain the pride swelling in his chest when the vampires shrank back.
The vampire in his grip was bleeding, struggling against the enormous strength of the half-transformed Mark.
The utter lack of urgency or movement from Zeke drew Caster’s attention only for a moment.
It was unusual, inexplicable. Given the threat they faced, the Alpha should at least help.
Instead, Mark was in a fight by himself.
His claws tore through the vampire’s neck as he battled the others, who seemed unwilling to unleash their full strength, their threats somewhat subdued.
A blur of movement signaled more enemies for Mark to deal with. He tore his attention from the battle Mark waged against seven vampires to see his cousin Bastian.
Bastian grabbed Zeke by the neck, and the Alpha seemed to yield to his fate. “Stop!”
Mark’s claws ripped through the vampire’s neck, tearing his head clean off, and he reached for the second of his assailants, his torn skin from the vampire attacks repairing as fast as new wounds appeared, his clothes drenched in blood.
“I said, stop.” Bastian’s voice stilled the precision of Mark’s movement. The other vampires stepped away from Mark, a silence reinforcing the stalemate.
Bastian’s claws dug into Zeke’s neck. “You’re coming with me, or he dies.”
The growl from Mark’s wolf was enough to cause the other vampires to shrink further away from him.
He advanced, his intent to tear Bastian apart unmistakable, but he stopped halfway to his goal.
It took a second for Caster to register the palpable change in the air, the toxicity of the magic whose source could only be… Ethel.
She materialized in Mark’s path, a smile on her face. Mark started to move again, but she held up a hand, and he was held still. He struggled against the magical bonds holding him in place, his growl morphing into a pained howl the longer he remained stuck.
“This will be so much easier for you if you stop struggling.” Her tone was indulgent. Her demeanor was anything but.
Mark didn’t seem to trust it either. His struggle to fight her magical bonds grew fiercer.
The witch’s sigh was too dramatic for the moment.
“Fine.” She glanced at Bastian, Zeke still in his grip.
“I guess, we have to do this the hard way.” She squeezed her hand in a fist, looking at Mark like a prize she wanted above everything.
The effect of her magic became clear when Mark’s latest howl dissipated into a human gasp.
His claws, the only indication of his wolf, retreated into his nailbeds.
Her prey immobilized, she smiled. “Do you feel that, wolf?”
Mark tried to move again, but her magic proved too much.
“I have taken your wolf.” Her smile grew as she circled Mark’s still body. “Swear your allegiance to me, and I will give him back.”
A single tear rolled down Mark’s cheek, and Caster couldn’t contain his rage. He willed his form forward, only for an invisible thread to draw him away from his target.
You can’t.
Riley’s voice in his mind was unwelcome. Caster tried to fight against the considerable magic holding him in place as the growl of another wolf filled the space.
Ethel gasped, turning to Bastian. “Who is that? They were supposed to be alone.”
Whatever Bastain said drowned in a renewed blur of activity.
A large gray wolf, James, imposed itself on the proceedings.
He‘d torn one of the other vampires’ heads clean off before the others could even mount a considerable defense.
His arrival, the speed and efficiency of his attack, proved a significant game-changer.
In her surprise and anger at a situation she could no longer control, the witch lost control of Mark.
He moved with renewed urgency, his goal, Bastian, but in human form, both Ethel and Bastian were much faster. Bastian’s considerable strength lifted Zeke off the ground by the neck as Ethel’s magic once again immobilized Mark, too close to his target.
Her voice, still and small as it was, drowned out the battle waging behind Mark. “Know that you could have prevented this.”
She hurled an orb of her dark magic at Zeke’s form, and Bastian was wise enough to step away from it as it found its mark. The sound of bone crunching as Zeke’s body disintegrated into the pieces Mark had tried to describe to him was one he would never forget. As was the piercing scream from Mark.
Mark fell to his knees as Ethel and her vampires dissipated into a teleportation spell. He scrambled on his hands and knees to what was left of Zeke, his pain a whispered “no,” he repeated like a chant as he gathered the mess of limbs to his lap.
His pain infected the air, enough that even in this form, Caster couldn’t escape the weight of it.
James remained in wolf-form, guarding the perimeter like the soldier he was, as Mark’s pain drained all life out of him.
His tears flowed past his face, drawing gasps from his shaking body, his hands slack as they held on to the man he loved.