Chapter 22 Evan
EVAN
“Where’s Jericho?” I ask when Taren returns from her morning run. I’ve been a nervous mess since they left, watching through the window until they got back. But Jericho wasn’t with them. Neither is Neal.
“I don’t know,” Taren says. “Neal went back to look for him.”
“What do you mean?” Grant asks.
“We got separated. We didn’t realize he wasn’t with us until we reached the yard. Neal went back to retrace our steps.”
Everything in me resists the urge to run to him. “Where did he go?”
“I don’t know. The last we saw him was near Sasha’s memorial stone.”
Forest immediately gets up from his chair. “Did you see or hear anything?”
She hesitates. “Jericho thinks he did, but Neal and I… I don’t know!”
“Calm down and talk to us, Taren. What did Jericho say?”
“He thought he smelled smoke? But I swear, Alpha, Neal and I didn’t smell anything. The forest seemed normal.”
I clench my hands, anxiety bubbling up inside me. “Something’s wrong. He wouldn’t have left you guys.”
Jericho put off hunting because he knew the risks of going alone and everyone agreed we needed to stay inside for now. He wouldn’t have wandered off unless he had a reason to.
“Did something happen?”
She shakes her head. “No, we were fine.”
Forest turns to the others. “Everyone, shift and go look for Jericho and Neal, but stay within our territory! We can’t take any chances right now. Red, prepare the medic room, just in case.”
“Already on it,” he says, disappearing down the hall behind the hearth.
Bile rises in my throat. I’m not sure I can handle seeing Jericho hurt again. I nearly lost my shit the first time.
Rushing to the patio, I grip the railing and scream, “Jericho!” But the only returning sound is a few branches stirring in the wind. I turn to run down to the grass, but Grant throws an arm out to block me.
“You need to stay here,” he says.
“But—”
“You’re human and a liability! STAY!” His tone cuts right through me, twisting like a knife in my chest. How can he expect me to stay behind when Jericho is out there alone? I did that once already, and it nearly killed me!
Mom rushes down the steps toward me. “Come on, honey. Let them do their thing. We’ll stay with the little one.”
I can’t breathe as the shifters take off for the trees, going in three different directions. My legs threaten to buckle underneath me, and if it weren’t for the railing, I’d probably keel over. “Mom,” I manage to say.
She grabs my arm, steadying me. “Don’t panic. We don’t know that he’s hurt. He’s just missing.”
Together we walk to the patio, but I am too restless to sit. I pace until there’s practically a hole in the wood. Sage walks the perimeter of the yard, tail flicking at every sound. Every so often, he barks at a wolf somewhere off in the distance, and a faint howl answers.
“Come on, Jer,” I murmur. “Where are you?”
Time crawls at an agonizing pace. Eventually, Mom gets up to stand at the top step.
“What’s that?” she says, pointing.
It takes me a minute to see what she does. Thick gray smoke is billowing up from the ground, a few feet away from the van.
“FIRE!” I shout, looking around for a hose. Finding it on the side, I turn it on and run across the yard, screeching to a halt when I notice the smoke isn’t coming from the car at all. In fact, it doesn’t seem to be coming from anything.
I take a few steps closer just as flames erupt around the edges of the smoke, forming a frame.
I stagger back, too bewildered to remember to spray it with water.
The frame of fire begins to shift and grow, becoming wider and taller until it’s at least three inches taller than me.
There is a vast emptiness in the center, where the van should be, but an image begins to form as the smoke clears.
Is that… trees?
Grant howls sharply, pauses, then howls again before running over to me. He stands between me and the fire, shifting to man and pushing me back.
“It’s a fire portal!” he yells. “Get back!”
Before either of us can move, however, someone steps through, and my jaw drops.
No fucking way. “Jericho?”
Smoke and fire dance around my vampire boyfriend, and as soon as he’s through, the hole begins to shrink and disappear.
I can’t take my eyes off him. “What the… Did you just—”
Jericho ignores me, falling to his knees in the grass. “He needs Red! His leg is broken, and his heart is beating too slow. Please, hurry!”
I had been too stunned by the fire portal to notice the limp teen in his arms.
Justice.
“What happened?” Grant demands.
“He was being attacked by Rip and another vampire. Please, just help him!”
My stomach twists. Rip was here?
Three more shifters run toward us immediately taking their human form. Rowen skids to a stop when he sees Justice. “Is that… Oh, fuck!”
Grant leans over the teen, and when he speaks, his voice is full of authority. “Shift.”
Nothing happens.
Grant tries again. “Justice, I need you to shift so you can heal. Can you do that?”
When he still doesn’t respond, Grant curses. “Take him to Red.”
Rowen scoops him up and runs off.
While they go inside, I stay with Jericho, my mind still racing. I point to the empty air behind him. “What the fuck was that? How the hell did you walk through fire?”
Jericho leans forward, bracing his hands on the cold ground. For the first time, I really see him. His hair and clothes are a mess, even ripped in a few places, and he has blood all over his face and neck.
“Jesus. Are you hurt?” I ask, crouching in front of him.
He makes a sound I can’t decipher.
“Answer me, Jer! Is that blood yours?”
When he finally snaps his eyes up, I almost cringe back. They’re colder and more distant than I’ve ever seen.
“Stay away,” he says, his voice clipped.
I don’t move, unsure of how much control Jericho has. “Okay,” I whisper.
After a moment, he climbs to his feet and heads toward the house. I wait a few moments before following.
Inside is absolute chaos. Forest is yelling at someone on the phone, Jasmine and Evelyn are in the kitchen doing God knows what, Rowen and Ivy are standing off to the side, Ivy’s face covered in her hands as she cries.
“Jericho! Get in here!” I hear Red yell.
I walk down the hall toward the medic room.
“He’s transitioning?” I hear Sage ask a few seconds before I reach the door.
“Yes, but shifters rarely survive a transition,” Red replies.
Someone curses.
Anger burns in me. The vamps must have injected their venom.
“What do you need me to do?” Jericho asks.
“It’s too late to suck the venom out, so he needs your blood to complete the process.”
“Will he survive?”
“We have no way of knowing, but your blood is his only chance. It’s the final stage. You know this.”
My stomach plummets. For a long moment, all I hear is the beeping of a machine.
“Would he even want it?” Jericho asks.
“He doesn’t have a choice,” Red says, his tone impatient.
“Bullshit!” Jericho growls. “Every vampire should have a choice.”
Oh, baby.
I turn the corner, my eyes latching onto Jericho as if he’s the only thing in the room. He looks like a man conflicted if ever I saw one, and for good reason. They’re asking him to do the impossible: aid a newborn vampire through the transition when he doesn’t have a choice in it.
Doesn’t Red remember what Jericho has been through? If he did, he’d never ask this of Jericho. Part of the reason Jericho hates what he is, is because he was forced into it. He’ll never do it to someone else.
Including me.
Like a magnet Jericho turns to me, his jaw ticking. I expect him to kick me out, but he doesn’t. He watches me with eyes the color of the dark forest, unblinking. His fangs are longer than I’ve ever seen them, from thirst or anger, I can’t be sure.
My heart breaks for him.
Walking around the table, I lean over Justice to get a better view.
God, he’s young. Sixteen, at most. His cheeks still have a baby roundness to them, yet he lay almost unmoving on the small metal table.
Two wires are attached to his arm, another to his chest, and dozens of bite marks cover his body, from his neck to his legs.
Six of them are inflamed, black webs trailing out from oozing sores. Venom.
It makes me want to throw up. Is this what Jericho went through when Foxx turned him?
Justice is still breathing. He’s still alive. Which means there’s a chance he might make it.
“Justice, look at me,” I say as calmly but as firmly as I can.
He doesn’t move.
I step in beside Jericho, shuddering at the heat coming from his skin. He’s still burning up.
Gently, I shake Justice’s shoulder. “Justice.”
It takes several tries, but eventually, the teen cracks his eyes. What I see knocks the air right out from my lungs. His pupils are already hard as stone, dark as mahogany and full of hunger.
“It’s Evan. Do you remember me? This is Jericho. He helped you escape. Do you remember that? Just a few minutes ago.”
Justice doesn’t reply.
“Do you understand what’s happening to you?”
His eyelids slide closed.
“Justice, please,” I try again. “I need you to respond.”
Taking his hand, I squeeze hard. “Squeeze my hand if you understand. Do you know what is happening to you?”
He squeezes.
“Good. That’s good. Your wounds are fatal. You’ll die unless we help you. But to do that, Jericho needs to feed you his blood. Do you understand what I’m saying? If he does that, you won’t be a shifter anymore. Do you want that?”
Justice’s lip trembles.
Red slams a fist on the table. “We don’t have time for this,” he seethes.
“Shut up and let me try!” I snap. “He might not want this!” This might be all we can do.
Red flinches.
I turn back to Justice. “We won’t force it, Justice, but if you want Jericho to help, he can. Do you want that? Squeeze my hand again if you do.”
After a dreadfully long few seconds, Justice presses his lips together and squeezes my hand almost painfully. I squeeze back, trying to let him know I understand. To let him know he isn’t alone.
“Okay, good. That’s good. We’re going to help you.”
Tears fill my eyes when I look up to Jericho. He seems completely frozen in time. Unmoving.
“He needs you now, babe. He’s running out of time, and he needs you. He’s made his choice.”
Jericho doesn’t breathe. I can see the war going on inside him, the desperate desire not to go through with this. But then something softens, and he reaches for my other hand, touching me ever so gently.
Justice’s body jerks as the machine beeps frantically. Red curses. “Jericho, now!”
Jericho inhales deeply before leaning over Justice. Holding his face, he says, “I promise you, Jus, this is the worst of it. It’s going to get better real soon.”
Jericho quickly bites into his skin, sending a pair of red streams down his forearm, then holds the wound over Justice’s mouth.
Justice sputters and coughs, his body rejecting the liquid, but Jericho holds him steady, lifting his head a little to help him swallow.
After three drinks, he pulls away and gently eases Justice back down.
His pulse becomes frantic as the blood enters his system, and I turn to Jericho, hoping that’s a good sign, but his face is unreadable.
Seconds feel like hours as we all hold our breath to see if it will work. Even with my human ears, I can hear Justice’s lungs rattle, each breath more labored than the last. This can’t be good. His skin is pale—too pale—and his eyes nearly lifeless. Is there any hope for him?
Is this what Jericho went through when Foxx turned him? How helpless he’d been to what was happening? Was Jericho this close to death?
I look at Jericho, my heart aching, both for the teen and for the man I’m falling in love with. Jericho’s eyes are closed, head slanted as if he’s listening to something I can’t hear. Then his jaw ticks as he pounds a fist against the table.
A second later, Justice’s body convulses once, twice, then goes completely limp on the table. The terrible drone on the monitor tells me he’s gone.
Jericho turns, kicking a table clear across the room. “Fuck!”
I reach for him but he jerks away, nearly backhanding me in the process.
“Jer—”
“He’s dead!” Jericho spits. “Justice is dead! All because of—”
“The same asshole who did this to you!” I cut in, refusing to let Jericho blame himself for Justice’s death. He tried to save him, not hurt him. “This was not you, Jer. It was Foxx! His coven. Not you!”
Jericho thrusts a hand toward the door, eyes the deepest shade of emerald. “How many more will there be? How many?”
“None, if we can help it,” I say quickly, trying to get through to him. But right now, it’s like he doesn’t even see me. His body is tense. A snake poised to strike.
I don’t dare touch him.
Jericho shoves past me, knocking another table over as he passes.
“Jericho!”
But he’s gone before I can turn around. I stare at the empty doorway in disbelief, my knees buckling. Gripping the table, I slump forward.
“He’s coming back, right?”
When no one replies, my heart breaks.
“Jericho’s coming back… right?”
He has to come back.