25. Deacon
Chapter twenty-five
Deacon
The smell of blood hits me first.
Kieran and Drew pile out of the car behind me—leaving them back at the pack house was a fight I didn’t have time for—but Chaya slips in ahead of them, carefully picking her way up to the doors.
Both guards, both of them vampires, are dead. Blood drips down the steps and, behind me, I hear Drew suck in a breath.
“You both should stay out here.”
“Adam was in there,” Drew says, voice pained and desperate. I close my eyes briefly and push through the doors, into the lobby.
Shouting comes from above. Kieran steps up next to me with a shiver. “Sam’s here,” he says and thank fuck for small miracles.
Where is Vasile? He’s not dead. I’m sure of it. Our bond might be weak, but I’d feel that.
I look back at Drew. “Adam…”
“He’s alive,” he says with a nod. His face is pale.
Lucien is waiting back at Kieran’s flat with Quinn and Pris. The rest of the coven…
A wolf—shifted—comes sprinting down a hall, teeth bared, skidding on the blood-slick floor. Chaya shifts before I can and takes him down with her teeth around his throat. He hits his head hard enough on the marble floor that he’s out cold instantly.
“Thank fuck you made it here,” Sam says, coming down the same corridor at a jog. When Chaya lets go of the wolf and steps back, he moves his hand, and I don’t think he’s about to kill the wolf, but I really don’t care.
This is a massacre.
“What happened?” I ask.
“I felt something down the bond,” Sam says, glancing at Drew. Did Drew not feel it because I put him in a room with Hale’s beta? Could we have been here sooner? “Dante’s at his flat, so me and Ophelia were heading over to meet you at the pack house when we heard what was happening.”
Chaya growls, heading off down another hallway. Sam watches her go and shakes his head.
“It wasn’t just wolves,” he says. “About five mages, too. They’re all dead now.”
“And the vampires?” Kieran asks.
“Some are still breathing. Moreau got here a couple of minutes after we did, and some hunters came after that. It’s been quick, but—”
“Where’s Adam?” Drew asks, his breaths coming too fast.
Sam shakes his head and fights to stop his expression crumbling. “I don’t know.”
Drew makes a broken sound and Sam rushes to his side, takes Drew’s face in his hands and presses their foreheads together. “It’s okay, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “He’s alive, isn’t he? We’ll get him back.”
Drew nods, shaking all over. “He keeps getting kidnapped.”
Sam lets out a wet laugh. “I know. Don’t worry. We’ll keep him locked up at home when we’ve got him again.”
“Where’s Moreau?” I ask.
“The entrance to the donors’ wing,” Sam says, not letting go of Drew. “It was—That’s the worst of it, I think.”
“Right.” I stride off in that direction and hear Kieran say something to Sam and Drew both before he follows.
He catches up to me and I don’t acknowledge his presence. Vasile isn’t here. I’m certain of it.
“They’ve not found Vasile,” Kieran says, confirming all my worst fears. “Njáll and Elle, too.”
“He took all of them?”
“Must have been quick,” Kieran replies with a nod. “For those four, anyway. Not like any of them will roll over and surrender.”
Adam’s the weakest link, but I don’t say that aloud. Besides, whoever took them should have been as careful to grab him fast—even if he’s not as formidable a fighter as the others, his mates are.
We both come to a sudden stop as we turn into the hallway that leads to the donors’ wing. Not all the vampires are dead, and I’ve seen one of the chieftains on the way trying to organise survivors into moving bodies and carefully sweeping up ash.
But here? Blood arcs up the walls, and there are at least seven or eight broken bodies strewn across the floor.
Moreau stands in the middle of them, hands deep in his pockets and a look of sorrow on his face.
“Moreau,” I say.
He startles before he turns to me, and that has me more worried than anything else. Is he so lost in thought he didn’t notice us arrive?
“Deacon.” He looks down at the bodies again, then at the doors beyond. “They saved them.”
“What?” Kieran asks. He takes a step or two down the hall before he comes to an uncertain stop.
“Most of the donors barricaded themselves inside,” Moreau says, and I notice ash mixed in with all the blood. “These ones chose to place themselves between their friends and the threat, to their own detriment.”
Tamesis’ scent is heavy here and in the back of my head, my wolf snarls. Is this where he first attacked? I’m honestly surprised he came here at all.
“They all…” I trail off as Vasile’s scent hits my nose. It’s faint, and I pick my way over to the bodies, then crouch next to a man who can’t be much older than Drew and Quinn. His dark eyes are still open, unseeing, and there are claw marks down his chest and side. Blood drips from a tear on his throat.
“Jamal,” Moreau says, and I lift my head in surprise. Moreau knows him? “He was Vasile’s donor. He only ever has one at a time.”
I close my eyes and shake my head. And he—I bite back the sound that wants to escape and force my voice into something close to normal.
“What’s happened to them, Moreau? Vasile and the others?”
“They were taken,” Moreau says. “I assume. Is he dead?”
He knows about our bond, then. I clench my teeth, shaking my head.
“Then Tamesis has them.”
“Why would he take Adam?” Kieran asks. “Or even Elle?”
“Who knows why Tamesis does the things he does,” Moreau replies. He looks past us, and when I glance down the hall, I see two figures standing there.
Vasile’s guards. At least, they were. I’ve never seen them in person before, but I know of them—everyone does. They’re vampires, but they’re not.
No. I take a deep breath.
They’re fae, too.
They’re both similar in appearance—tall, slender, eyes all black and unblinking. One has dark hair to his waist, the other red, to his shoulders. The redhead remains as the dark-haired fae comes closer, and when he sees the man I’m crouching beside, he bares his fangs.
I get to my feet and take a few steps back, holding my hands up in what I hope is a placating manner. Kieran appears as stunned as I do, though he must have seen them before.
“Moreau,” the fae growls. “We left because you asked it of us. We left them unguarded for one night, and this—”
He crouches next to Jamal and when he reaches out to close Jamal’s eyes, his fingers tremble. The other fae doesn’t come any closer, but his anguish reaches me, as does the realisation that their scents are combined.
They’re not related. They’re bonded.
But the way he’s looking at Jamal…
“I know, Rook,” Moreau replies. “We didn’t know—”
“We never should have left.” Rook shakes his head, and I’m not sure he’s listening to Moreau at all. “We never should have left him unprotected.”
He reaches out then and lifts Jamal’s body into his arms with ease. Blood smears over his clothes and hands, but he doesn’t appear to notice.
“Rook, you can’t—”
“He’s ours .” Rook hisses when Moreau takes a step closer. “We have this right.”
“And his friends? His family?”
“They are not here.” Rook swallows and looks up the hall to where the other fae is waiting. “Let us have this. When it’s done… We’ll let you know the place.”
The other fae nods, and Moreau lets out a heavy sigh. “Fine. Be safe.”
Rook doesn’t respond to that. He simply turns and walks over to the other fae, pausing when he reaches him. The other fae leans in, running gentle fingers down Jamal’s slack face, and then they both walk away, leaving us behind in silence.
“Tamesis killed him, didn’t he?” I say and shake my head as I look at the slightly open door beyond. There’s no one in there now. Moreau follows my gaze.
“I had them escorted out,” he says, answering my unspoken question. Then, “Yes, I think Tamesis came here.”
“First?” Kieran asks.
I shake my head. “Why would he come here? He’s captured Vasile and the others, so why would he…”
“He never liked anyone playing with his toys,” Moreau says, giving me a pointed look. My heart skips a beat. The pack house…?
Sam comes down the hall, barely even blinking as he takes in the bodies that surround us. “We’ve looked everywhere, but they’re definitely gone. I mean, we knew it, but—” He shakes his head sharply. “Afsaneh’s here and still alive. Says she didn’t catch sight of Tamesis at all, but she heard him yell something when she was fighting off a couple of the wolves. He seemed angry.”
“When doesn’t he?” Kieran says quietly. “The wolves?”
Sam grimaces. “A lot of them are dead. Wasn’t much else we could do. I’ve knocked out who I can so we can transfer them to the pack.”
“Thank you,” I say. I can push my increasing panic at Vasile’s situation aside. Tamesis will keep him alive for now—especially if he’s taken the other three to torment him with.
I hate myself for thinking it. I know it’s true.
“Chaya’s rounding them up,” Sam continues. “The donors… A lot of them want to leave. The pack house might be the safest place for them. Chaya said it’s not been attacked, so I could put up wards there, but—” He cuts himself off, snapping his jaw shut.
Kieran nods. “Where’s Drew?”
“Just up there,” Sam says, gesturing vaguely behind him. “I didn’t think he’d want to see… all this.”
He glances around, seeming to take in the massacre for the first time. I know better than that. His eyes are a little too wide, sweat beading along his hairline. “If you could help Chaya, I would appreciate it,” I say. “Once we’ve dealt with everything here, we can begin our search.”
Kieran frowns, opening his mouth to argue, but Moreau shakes his head.
“We can’t go after them effectively if we don’t know what resources we’ve got on our side,” he says. “It won’t take long.”
Kieran looks at me, and when I nod, he nods at Sam. Electricity buzzes under my skin, an unpleasant feeling uncurling in my stomach. I don’t like any of this. Why hasn’t Tamesis attacked the pack house if he wants to get back at Vasile? Why hasn’t he come after me?
“Sam,” I call as he reaches the corner. “Your bond. Can you find him?”
Sam nods. “Yeah. We did that before. We can do it again.”
Something like relief crosses Kieran’s face—they’re not beyond our reach—but my uneasiness doesn’t cease. It gets worse.
It—I—
Pain wracks my body all at once, and I cry out, doubling over as the mating bond, weak though it is, tears apart with a finality I’m not expecting.
It’s not even like that night one hundred years ago.
Then, there was a jaggedness, a fight to it. Vasile was before me, after all.
But now?
Here?
Kieran grabs my shoulders, keeping me upright. “Deacon? Deacon, what is it—”
I snarl at him, startling him enough that he darts back. Moreau pauses in his approach, too, eyes sharp and knowing.
I can’t breathe. I can’t think. Vasile is—
He’s—
He’s gone.
He’s dead .
“Deacon, what—”
Moreau doesn’t get the rest of his sentence out before I shift, wriggling out of my tangle of clothes.
“Deacon, wait!” Kieran shouts, but I’m already off.
I race through the clan house and into the cold night.
My mate is gone.
Vasile is dead.