Twenty-One
VERITY
Terrain whizzes by my blurred vision as I break through dead branches, twigs, and foliage. The icy wind whipping against my face rattles inside my belly, labouring my breathing. I’m also scared shitless, which doesn’t help.
I can hear those motherfuckers on my heels, each battling for dominance so they can feed on me first.
The worst part is that I have no clue how Briony is doing–if she is still alive, or dying alone without Bodhi or me beside her. With each step forward, I wish I was going in reverse, back to her. As her roommate, best friend, and the Kormo, it is my duty to go back. Briony is like a sister to me.
But I also have a responsibility to the Korama community as well as the rest of the Cold Moon Pack. I need to make it through this so I can help everyone. If I turn around, I’ll have to face five vamps, and there’s no way in Hell I’m strong enough to survive.
My only hope is to find higher ground, try my best to recover and let the wolf do its thing. If I can get some time to get my shit together, I’ll be better able to circle back and defend my loved ones. I just gotta live first. No big deal, right?
I’m healing, but the process is slower because of the severity of my wounds. The blow to the side of my head that I suffered as a human would’ve been gone by now as a Korama and especially as a Kormo, but the bite marks all over me and the vamp venom surging through my veins like a fucking computer virus will be tough for me to beat even as a wolf.
Fucking Vampyrs, ambushing us when we were pretty much naked and in transition. Being hurt in transition would– did –delay our shifts.
I don’t pray much–or at all, sorry God–but I sure as fuck pray for Briony to be okay, that she was able to shift in time to escape. As humans, we were vulnerable and just not cut out for survival. I’m still shocked I was able to get out of my own house alive. I think it was purely because of the Kormo wolf inside me that I escaped. And when I step down, I’ll be even more vulnerable to attack, defeat, and death.
But that’s an ‘if I survive’ problem. Right now, I just gotta make it through this fucking insane night.
I’m sprinting headlong through the Stanley National Park, deep into Korama Territory. I was hoping the four hundred acres of unfamiliar ground would stump these dumbass vamps, but I guess their bloodlust for me trumps their stupidity. I might have to make good on my plan of going up to the mountains. I’ll power through the pain and climb to higher altitude, hoping to lose ‘em with the uneven terrain and dangerous hike. There are hundreds of thousands of trees here–perfect for me to use as camouflage. Sure, they’ll be able to sense me, but hiding will hopefully buy me some time–even a couple of seconds. I’m not picky.
I never thought I’d stoop so low as to hide from fucking Vampyrs , but I don’t want to die. And I don't want my packmates to die, either. Desperate times and all that.
I hear them getting closer. They’re not talking, strategizing, or even mocking me. You can tell that they have one thing on their minds and one thing only.
Kill the Kormo.
Rid the city of the wolves.
I see the faint outline of the mountain range. Higher ground. Finally. The snow has intensified, blurring my already-weakened Korama senses. I need to get uphill, fast. I use every ounce of speed I have left, making the jump to the first ridge with about twenty feet to spare.
The frosty air lashes at my eyes, causing moisture to leak from them. My lungs are frigid, my breath hitching in my throat as I sail through the black sky illuminated by tumbling snow and eerie stars. The full moon swings in and out of focus from the ebony clouds–pretty fucking ironic, if you ask me.
I can make this jump.
I can make this jump in my sleep.
I got this. I’m the fucking Kormo!
I’m not that great at pep talks. I’m usually just getting by, just trying to survive. No time for buttering myself up along the way. But I gotta do this. It’s about way more than just my survival. I gotta find Briony. I gotta save the others. Help my pack. Nothing else matters.
I let out an involuntary whine when one of the vamps grabs hold of my hind leg and yanks me backward. The rush of wind against my face is unnatural and jarring. The vamp throws me behind him. I crash into a tree, breaking it in half. I collide with the snow, thankfully landing on top of the trunk because I don’t think I would’ve had the speed to get out of the way, and I would’ve been treed.
Fuck.
Okay, Plan B.
I shut my eyes, ignoring my wolf urge to get up. Fight or flight. But I tune it out, even if every bone in my body is fighting my brain to move.
I can feel, hear, smell the Vampyrs getting closer. All five of them. None of them have moved on to other wolves or jobs. I guess I should be flattered that they think they need five ugly-ass vamps to take me down. But I can be tickled pink later. Right now, I have a job to do too.
They’re inching in. They’re too close now. I need to shut out my fear and concentrate. Paxton was right. I need to zero in on my senses–even if it means swallowing down the most dread I’ve felt in a very long time. The last time I was this scared, my grandfather died in front of me. My back aches, those old, angry scars taking on a creepy life of their own. It’s like I can feel the vamp tearing into Grandpa, into me, all over again.
But no more.
Lunging headlong into the vamp nearest to me, I hear his heart thump in surprise at my sudden stealth. Loser. I drag my teeth through his neck, ripping his head clean off his shoulders. Gripping the vamp’s black, snow-filled hair, his blood dripping down my muzzle, I chuck the head at the chest of the Vampyr trying to get to me. It rips through him, a hole through his body revealing the falling icy shards. He slumps to the ground.
Two down.
I land softly on the disturbed snow, seeing Vamps Three and Four circling me. I’m not sure where the fifth one is–I think she’s hanging back to support her comrades, maybe planning an ambush operation.
I use the snow to slide, now underneath the female vamp. This may be fighting dirty, but I don’t give a shit. I roll on my back, slashing at the space between her legs and dragging my claws down her thighs. She screams something wicked, and it makes me smile through my barred teeth. I flip out from under her and chuck her trembling body at the two Vampyrs charging us. She knocks into the closest Vampyr, his body giving out with the force of my pitch. They fall.
The female is on me. She got too close while I was trying to disarm the other two. She grabs my front paw and twists. I scream in agony, black splotches swarming my vision as she grabs my other front paw.
My grandfather’s horrified eyes haunt me. I can still remember the exact second the light dimmed from his eyes. I flash back to me as a kid, crying in my bedroom because it was my first birthday without my parents, like it was just yesterday.
No fucking more!
I howl the attack call, even if no other Koramas are in the vicinity to assist me. This is her death notice. I rush my head to her face and rip into it as she breaks bones in my paw. She screams. I push her down with my wounded front paws, crushing her into the snow. I snap her neck. When she hits the crimson-stained snow, I tear into her chest with my teeth, stopping as soon as I dig my jaws into her heart. Usually, I’d savour the kill. But I have more work to do.
I lunge for the other two vamps. Only five seconds have passed. The girl vamp is healing but still clearly in pain. She’s stumbling toward me, blue eyes furious.
I open my mouth and snarl at both of them, saliva and blood pooling onto the frenzied snow underneath me.
The male vamp does something I didn’t expect. He turns tail and runs, leaving his injured and clearly vulnerable friend in the dust. She turns to gape at him, but he doesn't see her.
“Ken!” she screams, betrayed and horrified.
You’re first to die, coward!
It takes me two seconds to get to him, pushing through the agony in my front legs. I pounce, breaking his pace. He falls to the ground with a startled yelp. I drag my claws down the back of his head, spinning him around from underneath me. I want his terrified green eyes to stare up at me as I finish the job, tearing my teeth across his neck until his head pops off like a fucking champagne cork from that pointless peace party.
What an asshole, leaving his comrade behind. Vamps play dirty even with each other!
I swing my large black muzzle to look at the woman, who now has her hands up, backing away from me. “Please,” she begs. “I’m done. I won’t–”
I open my mouth, my soundless response causing her to turn and run, clearly using every ounce of her vamp speed to try and get to safety. I chase after her, hunting her down in the very same way Vampyrs pursued my parents, my grandfather.
Why should I spare you? Your kind didn’t spare my shiftless and dying grandpa. You didn’t spare my parents who had a young kid crying for them at home. You didn’t spare Freddie. You didn’t spare Briony’s parents. You’ve killed almost everyone I care about. Why should I show you any mercy?!
I overtake her out of pure rage. My entire body is on fire. My head is pounding. I feel like I’m going to die. But I don’t care. All I care about is justice.
She’s dead before she hits the snow, falling face-first as I rip into her flesh that’s soaked with sweat, blood, and pure fear.
It’s not like the movies.
Wolves don’t have this unlimited wifi connection giving us the ability to tell each other where we are. We can’t read our pack members’ every thought–thank God. But during times like these, I kind of wish that we did have those things. It would be much easier for the Cold Moon Pack to figure out a contingency plan, get the vulnerable citizens to safety, even protect humans from the truth brewing under the city’s nose.
But yeah.
Not so lucky.
I’m slinking through the urban depths of Vancouver, sticking to the shadows. Vamps are everywhere. I don’t see or sense any Magicena, though. That’s weird. I really thought the two of them had orchestrated this raid. Could it be that the magic wielders are just behind the scenes, maybe giving the vamps a power boost or something?
This is exactly what happened when I hunted Darren. I still have no proof of any of this, but it makes sense–and I bet that’s what’s happening now.
My heart is thudding slower than usual. I’m exhausted, hurt, and bleeding. I feel like crap. But I don’t have the time to rest or to heal. I need to keep going. I came back here as soon as I possibly could to make sure Briony was okay. Once I know that, I’ll hide somewhere and lick my wounds.
Watching Vampyrs killing and terrifying helpless people fills me with rage, but I know I need to pick and choose my battles. These vamps are all healthy, not a scratch on them. If I go up against them, I’ll die for sure. All I can do is look on with disgust and hopefully kill ‘em all later.
I hate to say it, but Briony’s sunshine and flowers fragrance, Bodhi’s hops and grease, and Paxton’s earthy musk aren’t the only scents I look for. I snort quietly in aggravation, knowing I’m also searching the chaotic streets for Darren’s warm, metallic scent.
It’s impossible to squelch the idea that a sappy guy like Darren would be first on the chopping block if he got caught up with the wrong people–AKA wolves. Or if Koramas breached the manor to get back at the Queen, the Vampyr Nobility would be their primary target.
The urge to find Darren and protect him, even if it goes against my lineage, my upbringing, the Korama way of life, is a force I’m almost powerless against. My duty to the pack, the terrified humans, and the vulnerable Korama citizens of Vancouver is the only thing keeping me in check.
Someone started fires in the streets (three guesses who it was). Humans are screaming, running for safety. The thick blowing snow causes them to weave in and out of sight. The heavy smoke isn’t making visibility any better–and it isn’t helping my throat or stealth, either. I know my Korama senses aren’t what they should be. It’s because I’m mortally injured. No more adrenaline to keep me going, AKA needing to kill off five vamps and getting revenge–justice–for my loved ones’ murders.
I’m haunted by two choices: find my pack, protect Bodhi and Darren; or limp off somewhere to try and regroup, heal, so I can actually be useful to anyone and everyone on my list.
Damn.
“Hey! Got one over here!”
“Let’s get ‘er, boys!”
I swivel around, baring my teeth at the three vamps rushing headlong for me. I’m tense and aggravated because I recognize one of the voices.
Darren’s dumbass brother. I forget which one he is–they’re both brainless idiots, why bother knowing their names?
The other two vamps with him look experienced, too. Maybe they’re in the Vampire Nobility in some way or other. Mister Dumbass wouldn’t hang out with nobody vamps. Don’t care about that either, except for the fact that they’ll be tougher to beat due to their age. Newbie vamps aren’t usually shoved into the nobility. Darren is pretty much the only exception I’ve heard of in a long time.
I back up ever so slightly, wondering how I’ll be able to kick three vamps’ asses. I hate to say it, but I was barely able to kill off the five Vampyrs who hunted me down in the Stanley National Park.
Dread settles into my bones, eating me away from the inside out.
I won’t survive this fight.
And I fucking hate giving a Vamp Prince the satisfaction of killing me, a member of the Korama Nobility.
Snarls rip from my throat in warning. If I act tough, maybe they’ll think twice about coming after me. Maybe they’ll think they’ll need reinforcements. But that’s not reality. I know they can smell my blood. See my injuries. Sense that I’m on my last legs.
It’s finished.
I’m finished.
I wasn’t able to save anyone. I wasn’t able to even find out if my closest friend died in the ambush at my house. Chiara and the rest of them were right. I’m a fucking joke.
The Prince is the first one to aim for me, raising his arm as if he’s readying himself to rip my head off my shoulders.
Fine! If he kills me, I’m not going down without a fight!
And if I can take down that motherfucker Vamp Prince, even better!
I don’t care when they surround me. I don’t care when one of them pounds into my back with a crowbar. I don’t care when the other one barely misses my head when he crashes a baseball bat into the ground, shattering my eardrums and causing wooden splinters to dig into my skin. All I care about is that I sacrificed my health in order to rise up on my hind legs and wind up my paw, slashing the Vampyr Prince across the face.
Blood splashes into my eyes, snout and mouth as he sails away from me. He crashes into the street just as a car swerves out of the way to miss him. Pity. That wouldn’t have killed him, but it sure would’ve slowed him down long enough for me to have a chance to finish the job. Maybe. And it would’ve been fun to see.
All this happened at the same time: the crowbar, the baseball bat, my assault. But it was worth it to wipe that stupid-ass smirk off the Prince’s face. This asshole should’ve known better than to pick a fight with a crazy bitch like me.
I sink into the damp snow as the blow to my back winds me, the bat now above my head while the vamp with the crowbar pins me down with his free arm.
“Kill it!” I hear the Prince wheeze from the road.
It. Like I’m a monster with no soul, no heart, no feelings. That’s how Vampyrs see us–even when it’s five-on-one, now three-on-one. Even when they violated the dumb treaty that was clearly a pack of lies. Somehow, we’re still the it , the beasts, the animals.
The Vampyrs are quick to obey their master–I guess in the same way the Cold Moon Pack obliges Paxton. That might be the one similarity between us: we follow orders from our leaders.
As the two Vampyrs sink their fangs into my already-torn flesh and begin to eat me alive–probably wanting to give me a slow and painful death, unlike what I did to their friends just a half hour ago–I close my eyes and shut out the creepy similarity between what’s happening to me now and what happened to Grandpa years ago. It’s sort of comforting–in a fucked-up way–that my death will be mirrored with his.
I’ll be with family when I die. This makes me happy–even if it will hurt getting there. But I still wish I could have done more– been more–while I was alive.
Screams break through my fog of peaceful regret.
But they’re not mine.
The Vampyr to my right topples to the ground, then something large and gray jumps on top of him and rips his head off with one quick snap . The Vampyr on my left is yanked from my side. I hear her being torn apart. She’s dropped to the icy ground beside me, bloodied and lifeless.
To my shock, a large gray wolf with black patches on its back crouches in front of me in a defensive position.
Bodhi!
He’s alive!
And he shifted tonight!
The Prince, who was in the throes of rushing toward us, stops dead in his tracks when his friends are murdered. His eyes widen. He slowly backs away from the big-ass shadow that falls over me.
I feel the power, the authority, the vengeance as Paxton places a front leg over my limp and practically dying body, snarls ripping from his throat. Hackles raise on every inch of his body, making him bigger than he actually is–but only by a hair. Kormas get pissed when their pack gets attacked, and that same emotion extends to their Nobility. They get really mad when you mess with their Kormis and Kormos.
A wave of security and tranquility washes over me as Paxton and Bodhi inch over me, gnashing their teeth and barking angrily at the Vampyr Prince with wavy brown hair. His hazel eyes are horrified. It looks like he knows the Korma and an important member of the Korama community are backing me–but it’s more than that.
He knows it’s over.
Like the coward he truly is, he turns tail and runs away using his vamp speed. Bodhi braces in front of me in case the yellow-belly vamp has a miraculous change of heart and comes back. Paxton roars the attack call and lunges after him, closing the gap between them in a second. The Vampyr Prince crashes to the ground, Paxton’s claws pinning his face into the snow and ice on the shoulder of the road. Humans scream all around us, but the streets are mostly deserted, meaning there won’t be many witnesses to the Prince’s slaughter. Too bad.
Paxton surprises me by swinging the Prince one hundred and eighty degrees, snapping his spine with his forepaw so the Vampyr’s head jerks up. He’s in direct view of Bodhi and me. As if on cue, Bodhi steps out of the vamp’s view, revealing me.
“Look at her!” Paxton roars, head moving, honey-brown eyes filled with pure hatred as he stomps again on the Vampyr’s back. He knows the vamp can’t understand him. This is more formality than anything else. “You won’t live another second after what you’ve done to my Kormo!”
Snarls rumble from Bodhi’s throat in agreement.
The Prince screams a half-second before the attack, his cries for help going unanswered. Paxton bends his head down in a flurry, smashing his teeth into the vamp’s face, picking up the Prince halfway and shaking him around like a chew toy. The Vampyr’s head snaps from his shoulders, his entire body falling limply to the bloodied shoulder of the road. Paxton spits out his head, leaving it in a forgotten heap on the snow.
In a second, Paxton is in front of me, bending his head down and nuzzling the top of mine. “Verity,” he sighs. “What did you do without backup?”
“A lot,” I confess quietly, full of shame.
He glances up at Bodhi. “Take her to the safe house. She’ll need time to recuperate.”