Chapter Twelve
The sounds of voices arguing loudly greeted Wynter as she came to. Dying seriously sucked. It was hardly ever pain-free. Worse, some of the pain was often still there when her soul returned to her body, though said pain would quickly fade. More, she always felt weak and groggy.
Her wounds were no doubt closed, since they always were when her soul came back. Her death must have also neutralized and disintegrated any traces of iron in her system, because she wasn’t suffering any aftereffects.
She had no clue how long she’d been dead in this realm. Time wasn’t in sync with that of the netherworld. A minute here could be an hour there, or seconds or even months.
Her monster was writhing within her, somewhat pissed and eager to savage those who’d dare harm her. She sent it some telepathic images, communicating that she needed to fake ‘dead’ for a few moments while her body recovered—then it could do whatever it wanted. Still, that might not have been enough to stay its hand, given how utterly furious it was, if Kali wasn’t close and urging it to wait. The deity stroked Wynter’s hair like a cooling breeze.
Wynter didn’t need to open her eyes to sense that the vampires were stood only a few feet in front of her—and still arguing loud enough to scare any local wildlife.
She wouldn’t be able to give herself too much time to recover. The moment they lowered their voices, they’d likely hear her heartbeat—it was a little sluggish right now, but that would soon change.
God, she needed one of Anabel’s rejuvenating potions in a major way. A cup of Delilah’s energy teas wouldn’t go amiss either.
One side of her face burned in a telling way that told her Kali’s mark was now visible on her skin. Thankfully, it was nonetheless currently hidden from the vamps, since that side of her face was pressed against the ground.
Claud swore long and loud. “Stop yelling at me!”
“You just cost us a million fucking dollars!”
spat Enzo, who she sensed was pacing, the dry grass crunching beneath his feet.
“I didn’t mean to shoot her in the head. She was moving so damn fast . . .”
“Maybe Adam will still want her body,”
suggested another voice. Marvin.
“Why the fuck would he?”
Enzo demanded. “He needs her to undo the curse. She can’t do that if she’s dead. Fuck.”
“Maybe she’ll come back to life,”
said Marvin. “I mean, she’s a revenant.”
“Won’t happen,”
said Claud. “Shelia was clear that a lethal shot from an iron bullet would be all it took to take her out for good.”
“I guess we could just leave her here or bury her somewhere,”
said a fourth voice. Mickey.
“I say we take our chances and offer her up to the Aeons,”
stated Claud. “They might still reward us. We’ve come this far. All they can say is no.”
Enzo growled. “Yeah, and they can also kill us for killing her—their one chance at undoing the curse!”
“Her death might have undone it,”
said Marvin.
“If it would have been that simple to fix what she did, Adam wouldn’t have been so bothered about her being brought here,”
Enzo pointed out. “He would have just made it clear that he wanted her dead.”
“Not if he was also set on torturing her for what she did to his land,”
Claud shot back. “I say we take her to him.”
Her strength regained, Wynter signaled to her monster that it was almost time to lunge. The vampires seemed to be calming now, so they’d soon become aware of her heart beating in her chest.
“So do I,”
said Marvin.
Enzo stopped pacing. “Well, I don’t.”
“Yeah, me neither,”
said Mickey.
Her monster slinked to the surface of Wynter’s skin, and she sensed more than saw black little ribbons crisscrossing over her eyeballs. Claud still held the gun, but she didn’t worry about that—no bullet would take down the being she hosted.
“Then how do we settle this?”
asked Marvin.
“Rock, paper, scissors?”
Claud suggested.
Enzo growled again. “Are you for real?”
“Do you have a better idea?”
asked Claud.
“I do,”
Wynter cut in, rolling onto her back.
The vampires looked down at her, their bodies tense, their mouths open wide. Before any had the chance to strike, her monster took over.
*
Wynter stumbled forward as she came back to herself. She was on her feet, so she clearly hadn’t passed out this time. She wasn’t injured, but her skin and clothes were streaked with blood. Oh, grand.
As for the vampires, well, going by the large scattering of ashes they were all in fact dead. There was enough blood to suggest that her monster had brutally torn into them as it killed them. Its mood was still foul, though. Mostly because the entity was too close to Aeon for its liking. The monster loathed that place. It wouldn’t be happy to return unless it would be free to feast on its residents.
Damn, it was gonna take her a while to get back to Devil’s Cradle. It sucked that she had no way of contacting anyone to give them her location and assure them that she was fine. One touch to her soul would confirm for Cain that she wasn’t dead, but it wouldn’t tell him that she was safe. Hopefully neither he nor her coven would do anything stupid.
Had anyone even realized that she was missing yet? Maybe. Maybe not. Her coven would assume she was in the shed as usual. They might not notice she’d disappeared until they wondered why she hadn’t returned to the cottage at the end of the workday.
People would eventually notice that Wynter was gone. Some would soon be looking for her. They’d assume she’d been taken and they would try to find her. The problem was that they weren’t likely to come this far out, since they probably wouldn’t suspect that she’d been teleported anywhere. And even if they did, they wouldn’t manage to cover the distance in a hurry unless they used a teleporter—one who would probably aimlessly ’port from spot to spot in the hope of stumbling upon her.
One thing was for certain: she wasn’t going to simply wait here for someone to appear and rescue her ass. Not Wynter’s style. She’d try to make at least part of the journey home herself.
Well, she had no intention of making it on foot.
After magickly returning her sword to the wardrobe in Cain’s chamber, she walked among the blanket of ashes in search of something that Enzo had earlier dropped and—aha—she found his key fob. Soon, she was in the SUV . . . at which point she realized that she had no clue which direction she needed to head in. Figuring that following the tire tracks the vampires left behind would likely take her home, she did exactly that.
As she drove, she thought of all the things that Kali had told her. Things that Wynter wouldn’t have begun to guess at. Things that the deity had made clear that Cain and the other Ancients couldn’t yet know.
Wynter hadn’t reacted so well on learning just how many things had been kept from her. She’d cursed, she’d hissed, she’d even yelled. Kali thankfully hadn’t gotten pissed. She’d only calmly asked, “Can you tell me that my reasoning for withholding the information until now was not sound?”
The bitch of it was that, no, Wynter hadn’t been able to say that. Not when she could look back and see just how many decisions she might not have made if she’d known everything from the outset. A lot of things might have played out very differently.
Wynter also hadn’t been able to claim that the Ancients should be immediately made aware of all that she now knew. It didn’t seem fair that they were in the dark, and she hated the thought of keeping it all from Cain. But she understood why Kali had insisted on it. The deity was right to believe that the Ancients wouldn’t react well to what they’d soon learn. If they learned it too soon . . . well, the consequences wouldn’t be good.
Approximately three and a half hours into Wynter’s journey home, the SUV sputtered to a stop. She’d ran out of gas. Motherfucker. She slammed her hands on the wheel as she spat a string of curses.
Slipping out of the vehicle, she let out a heavy sigh and felt her shoulders slump. Walking the rest of the way really did not appeal to her. It would take her days to get home.
God, all she wanted was to get a hug from Cain, see her coven, shower the day away, and then see to it that Shelia paid for what she’d done. Was that really so much to ask?
Figuring she should be at least grateful that the sun was close to setting and wouldn’t beat at her skin, Wynter rolled back her shoulders and began to walk. Until that moment, she’d never been more grateful for choosing immortality. It meant she could keep up a decent pace, wouldn’t tire as quickly, and had good enough stamina that she wouldn’t need to repeatedly stop to rest.
Still, her mood was super low. She’d been kidnapped. Attacked. Shot in the head. Learned some heavy shit. And now had no choice but to walk the fuck home.
More, she was all sticky from the blood that had matted her hair and dried on her skin. The smell of it taunted her nostrils and made her stomach lurch every now and then. To make matters even more annoying, the now-dry stains on her clothing had roughened the cotton, and it chafed uncomfortably against her flesh.
As she walked, she occasionally felt an otherworldly brush of air—an encouragement to keep moving, a reassurance that she wasn’t alone. Her monster wasn’t the least bit bothered by the situation. It was once more deep in slumber.
The sun soon set, and darkness gathered around Wynter. Still, she walked and walked and walked, only taking small periods of rest here and there. But eventually her posture stooped, her muscles began to weaken and cramp, and her dry throat felt so scratchy it almost hurt to drag air into her lungs.
The walk through a forested area was particularly shit. Especially when she could barely see. Branches slapped at her. Pine needles clawed at her. Rough tree bark scraped her skin. Her jeans got repeatedly snagged on thorns or the underbrush. Little rocks stabbed into the soles of her feet through her shoes.
More, her tired muscles burned like a bitch. At this point, she weaved more than she walked.
Licking at her dry lips, she was about to stop for a rest when she heard an almighty screech. Her head snapped up. And there in the evening sky was the source of the sound. It looked like a mere dot at first. But that dot grew bigger seriously fast as it flew closer.
A shaky smile splitting her chapped lips, she let out a blast of magick that would act as a flare, worried the dragon wouldn’t otherwise notice her. It responded with yet another screech, and then it was flying toward her. Staggering to a halt, she almost dropped to her knees in relief.
*
Waiting near the tunnel, Cain willed his consort to walk through it. He loped back and forth like a tiger in a cage. That was essentially what he was. A predator trapped in a prison. Helpless. Powerless. Caught up in an animal fury.
Seven hours. It had been seven fucking hours since he’d received word that Wynter was missing. It was possible that she’d been gone even longer, since her coven hadn’t thought to check on her until a potential customer went to the cottage asking if Wynter was inside.
The pressure to find his consort seemed to batter every cell in his body. It pushed him. Pinched him. Goaded him.
But he couldn’t answer that drive to search for her. Couldn’t pass the boundaries of the town. He’d sent others to search—some by foot, some in vehicles. Dragon shifters had taken to the sky, able to cover a lot of ground fast.
Most of those who went out on foot had already returned—not including her coven—reporting that they were no signs of her. The tire tracks they’d discovered were days old, too faint to follow, and were apparently left by an all-terrain vehicle. Seth had confirmed that a small nest of vampires had left Devil’s Cradle a few days ago in an SUV that belonged to the leader. It couldn’t have been them who’d taken her, they were long gone.
So where the fuck was she?
Cain cricked his neck, his nostrils flaring at the headache that was beginning to build in his temples. “Maxim, have people search the town and city again.”
He fairly barked the order, unable to temper his voice. “Anyone who took her would have needed a vehicle to get her to Aeon. If none are missing from the storage facility, I can’t see how else someone got her away.”
It was possible, of course, that she’d been teleported away from here—various creatures possessed the ability—but it was equally possible that she’d been hidden by someone who might have the idea to smuggle her out of Devil’s Cradle at a later date.
Maxim nodded and hurried away.
Azazel, Seth, Lilith, Dantalion, and Eve remained close by. Cain wasn’t sure if they were there as a show of support or to be ready to take him down in the event that his rage swallowed him whole. If it was the latter, their presence was pointless. Even collectively these people stood no chance of subduing him or his monster.
Whatever the case, none dared get too close to Cain. He couldn’t blame them. He was a hair’s breadth away from losing it.
There was no getting his pulse to calm. No stopping adrenaline from shooting through his blood again and again. No getting rid of the burning sensation in his lungs.
Every muscle in his body seemed coiled with tension. His clothes felt tight and confining. Fuck, his own skin felt constricting. Just the same, his ribs seemed too snug, making him feel like he couldn’t drag in enough air—a sensation that was worsened by the phantom weight on his chest.
Lost in its rage, his inner creature was having its own personal crisis. The monster thrashed and hissed. Its movements weren’t smooth and fluid as usual, they were jerky and stiff. It wanted to kill. Torture. Destroy. And it didn’t particularly care who its victim was. It simply craved the release.
“Is it possible that she decided to give herself up to Adam?”
Eve softly asked, hesitant.
Grinding his teeth at the stupid question, Cain rolled his neck and shoulders. “Of fucking course not, Wynter’s not suicidal,”
he replied, his words coming fast and hard like bullets.
“But maybe she thinks that Adam might leave you and everyone here be if he finally has her,”
Eve added.
Still pacing, Cain shook his head hard. “She knows that giving herself to Adam wouldn’t change anything, and she’s no martyr.”
He rubbed the side of his neck, feeling his tendons standing out.
Eve delicately lifted her shoulder. “Do you think . . . I know it would hurt to consider it . . . but is there a chance she’s fled to seek refuge elsewhere?”
Cain felt his brows snap together. “And why the fuck would she do that?”
Eve flinched at his tone. “Adam has put a price on her head, and she knows she’s in danger here. If she fears what he might do to her—”
“Wynter wouldn’t run,”
Cain snapped out.
“She ran from Aeon.”
Halting, he fired a glare at his mother. “Because she was alone. She had no backing there. Here, that isn’t the case. And I know she wouldn’t willingly leave me or her coven.”
“You can’t be sure of that.”
“Not everyone abandons those they care for when all goes to hell.”
Eve blanched. “I deserved that.”
Maybe. Maybe not. Right then, he didn’t give much of a fuck. Not when she wanted him to consider that Wynter could have left him. Maybe Seth hadn’t liked her suggestion much either, because he hadn’t stepped in to defend Eve.
Azazel cleared his throat. “I don’t believe Wynter left of her own accord. Not for a second.”
“No, nor do I,”
said Lilith. “And if she had, she would have needed a vehicle. We have already had it confirmed by Maxim that none have been taken from storage.”
Eve’s lips flattened. “Perhaps she walked to the nearest town and stole a car from there.”
“The nearest town is even further away than Aeon,”
Azazel told her, a note of impatience in his voice. “If Wynter had headed that way on foot, she’d have been spotted by now.”
Cain gave a hard nod, pacing once more. “The trackers reported that they found no traces of her, so we can safely say she didn’t willingly stroll out of here.”
He rubbed at his tight chest. A roar seemed trapped there, and it appeared to gather in strength with every moment. He wasn’t sure he could keep it contained much longer.
He kept loping back and forth, restlessness humming in his blood. He had so much pent up energy, so much barely contained fury. It left him twitchy. Jittery. On edge.
His gaze bounced around, just as restless. Each of his senses seemed heightened and oversensitive, making him feel too alert.
Cain knew some residents would wonder why he wasn’t out looking for her himself. They might even mistake his seeming lack of personal action for him not particularly giving much of a shit about her. That could later be a problem, considering some might then think it wouldn’t be such a huge deal if they tried cashing in on the bounty. That wasn’t a problem he could address right then, though.
Realizing he was holding his breath again, Cain drew in a long gulp of air until his chest expanded. He took several more deep breaths even as he knew it wouldn’t help calm him. Nothing could. The only thing that would end his inner torment would be having Wynter returned to him.
“Maybe she wasn’t taken by vehicle,”
suggested Seth, shifting from foot to foot. “Maybe someone found another way to take her out of here.”
Cain slammed his gaze on his brother. “Teleported her away, you mean? I considered that.”
Seth shrugged. “They could have even taken her through a portal.”
Azazel rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. “Both would explain how she seems to have disappeared into thin air. It would mean she literally did.”
A cold ache lanced Cain’s chest at the very thought of it, because . . . “If that happened, she’ll be at Aeon as we speak. She’d have been taken straight there.”
He snapped his mouth shut, panic once more threatening to shut down all rational thought.
“Only to the boundaries—that’s as far as any teleporter or portal opener would have gotten, due to the preternatural security measures,”
Dantalion pointed out. “Besides, no one would dare go further for fear of being killed on sight for trespassing. That would give her an opportunity to get away. We know how good she is at that.”
Cain’s fingers contracted like claws. “But if she didn’t, Adam has her.”
“Don’t go there, Cain,”
said Azazel. “Don’t let yourself think about it. There’s every chance that she’s . . . ”
He paused, his eyes sliding to the sky. “One of the dragons is back.”
“And he’s not alone,”
said Seth. “He has a passenger.”
Cain’s heartbeat kicked up as he spun. Holding his breath, he eyed the beast heading their way. It was as it slowed its pace and began to descend that Cain got a decent glimpse of the person on its back. Wynter. A breath gusted out of his lungs.
Fuck, she was home. Alive. And right there.
Relief sank into him, wrapped around his bones, and acted like a balm to the jagged edges of his control. His eyes very briefly closed but he snapped them back open, needing to keep his gaze locked on her. Needing to be sure she didn’t disappear again.
The dragon landed smoothly a few feet away. Cain instantly blurred to its side and snatched her from its back, holding her tight, uncaring of the sight and smell of the blood staining her skin and clothes. He exhaled heavily, feeling like he could finally breathe. He opened his mouth to speak, but the right words didn’t come to him.
She hugged him back. “I’m totally gross right now,”
she warned, her voice scratchy.
“I don’t care.”
He gave a nod of thanks to the dragon shifter, who Azazel then ordered to signal to the other searchers that Wynter had been found. The dragon swiftly took to the sky.
Cain and Wynter stood holding each other in silence for long moments until, without releasing her, he pulled back slightly to take her in. His stomach tightened. She was pale. Looked weak and tired—such a rarity for her. “What happened? Who took you?”
She gave him a grim smile that held a bloodthirsty edge. “Funny story. You’re gonna love it.”
The others gathered around as she relayed what happened.
Lilith’s lips parted. “Shelia as in Ishtar’s aide?”
“One and the same,”
Wynter confirmed.
Anger coursing through his system once more, Cain flexed his hand around her nape. “I see.”
“We don’t know that Ishtar had anything to do with it,”
Dantalion said to him.
His back teeth locked, Cain pulled in a breath through his nose. “No, we don’t. But we’re about to fucking find out.”