Chapter 3 #2
“Listen, if you can’t tell, I’m extremely exhausted. I need to pick up some things at the hotel and then I’ll go wherever you want. Ok?”
“Fine, where is your hotel?”
“The Scandic Resort. ”
He pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’ve never been there. Why didn’t choose the resort our family goes to for the yearly ski trips?”
And so it begins.
A flaw in his Obsidian Drift powers, is that he can only walk or run or glide in the shadows where the end destination is somewhere he has been before.
That or he at least needs to know the coordinates of a location to have an idea where to go.
That’s why I picked this hotel because no one in my family has ever been nor do they know where it’s at.
Meaning, they can’t drop in on me whenever they want.
It’s complete privacy.
“It’s ok I can drive us there,” I say smugly tossing my rental car keys in the air before catching it.
***
We’ve been in the car for almost thirty minutes with the heat on blast because someone, me, didn’t think to wear a coat tonight.
The entire time, Roman has been lecturing me about safety.
Complaining that if I was ever in danger the family wouldn’t be able to get to me because they, never been to that destination .
“How stupid can you fucking be?” he berates me from the passenger seat.
The roads to my hotel are partially iced over since Solna received a wintery mix earlier today. I drive with caution— slow and steady— but I might just crash if I continue to listen to Mr. Lecture Dom over here.
“You seem to forget that you don’t have the leisure to do whatever you want to do. You need protection. You need to be in places where I can get to you easily. ”
“What I need is for you to stop acting like you’re my father and act like my brother for once.”
“Well. Just wait until your real father hears about this. Let’s see if you have any privacy then.” His voice trails in the background as I see several blurred figures flash from the side of the car.
Vampires or werewolves?
From the speed at which they moved, I can’t quite decipher.
I sit up straighter, all my senses are on alert. Roman must have noticed the shift too, his attention is fully on our surroundings now. Though it’s not snowing now, I strain my eyes to look at every lit corner I can. And the ones I can’t.
“I spot six,” I tell Roman.
“How many weapons do you have in this car?”
“Including my lipstick, there’s four wolfsbane loaded Crossovers. One under the wheel, under my seat, your seat and in the glove compartment. There are shotguns under the back seats as well.”
“Good,” he says as half of his body becomes hidden by shadows. “Hold down the fort.”
He doesn’t have to tell me twice.
I pick up the speed, being mindful of the ice on the road when something slams in the back of my car. My tail spins and the car flips over several times before it skids to a full stop.
Disoriented, I unstrap my seatbelt and move to open my door. It’s jammed. I throw my body against it, but the door doesn’t give. I hear the hard sound of snow crunching a few feet away from the car and my heartbeat picks up as I arrange myself in an angle to use my heels to break the window .
More footsteps in the snow sound off around the car.
I count three people, maybe four, coming towards me.
The window finally breaks and I take no time climbing out.
Righting myself, I stand assessing the threat.
My sight is blurry from the blood dripping down my face but that doesn’t deter me.
I was trained to fight while blindfolded and intentionally injured.
The SRU and the Werewolf Boot Camp are gruesome programs. They’ve broken me in more ways that goes beyond than the physical. My training was geared towards captivity resilience and knowing how to fight when you’re completely unarmed, senses dulled and with nothing to rely on but yourself.
This will be no different.
“Looks like you’re out numbered.” A deep Russian accent taunts me.
With my eyes closed, I say, “looks like you don’t know who’s presence you’re gracing but you will soon learn.”
“Cyka,” he says bitch in Russian.
How original?
He rushes me and the corners of my lips turn up.
I’ve been waiting for a good fight, I’ve been waiting for an opportunity to release some pent-up aggression.
His scent blows towards me indicating he’s running my way, I quickly grab my lipstick, and it extends into a katana blade.
I don’t know what I’m up against— vampire or werewolf— but I slash my blade in the air.
A small thud— his head hits the snow.
Then a larger thud—presumably his body.
Two more rush me and they meet the same fate, quick, efficient, and dead. A beat of silence spreads across the cold dead of night. If it wasn’t for the adrenaline keeping me warm, I would be trembling from the freezing temperature.
I thought there were four.
I squint my eyes and I’m met with the headlights of my flipped car. I even my breaths and I calmly search the shadows.
There’s just eerie stillness.
“Roman?”
No response.
I retract my katana.
Patting my back pockets, I find my phone. Shit. The screen is cracked and it’s dead. This would have been a great time for the wrist comms since they’re indestructible.
I move towards the direction of my hotel, it’s about four miles north from me. If I knew I would be stranded on a remote road after a car accident and a show down, I would have worn a damn coat. Talk about being underprepared.
You have to wear layers in the winter, Penny. Your body can’t heat up as ours do. You have to take care of yourself better. I can hear my dad’s voice chiding me even now after such a strange event.
Happy freaking birthday to me.
Limping down the road. The only sounds are my heels crunching in the snow. “Roman?” I hiss.
Still nothing.
“Regina?” A new voice echoes behind me. It’s Russian, deep and ominously calm.
The blood dripping down my face blurs my vision, but I can make out the man’s tall, broad figure in his three piece tailored suit .
“You’re not Regina,” he corrects himself.
Goosebumps pepper my skin and I am back on high alert.
Why did he call me by my mom’s name?
In a blur, he’s in front of me. “You look just like her,” he says above a whisper, there’s reverence in his voice.
Reverence or not, I don’t hesitate, I throat punch him. He stumbles back. I don’t let the shock register to him before I kick his chest. Before his body can hit the ground, he’s back in my face with his hand firmly around my throat.
“Enough!” he roars. I glare at him into his… silver with black flecks eyes.
He’s a shadow forger.
My eyes widen.
Shit.
Shadows grip my wrists and ankles tightly, restricting my movement.
“I wasn’t expecting to find you out here.” His voice is shocked and almost regretful. “Now that I have, I can’t lose such a… great opportunity,” he says with a somber smile. “I’m sorry, little one, but this will sting.”
Something pricks my neck and he removes his shadows. My body instantly feels light as if I’ve become air itself.
No.
I try to fight against whatever he gave me but whatever it is, it’s strong and is quickly taking its desired effects. My limbs grow heavy and I slump forward. He catches me before I could fall over and lifts me up bridal-style.
Judging by the way his body bobs from side to side, he’s walking us towards something. I fight to stay conscious but I’m losing. The last thing I see is Roman lying unconscious on the ground, blood pooling around him.
“Ro—”
“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure he’s ok.” His voice feels like velvet to my ears, comforting. I desperately want to believe him, but I can’t.
I need to get to my brother.
I have to save him.
“Ro—”