Chapter Eighteen
Thy hallow beauty in death
P erspiration beaded on Ravyn’s upper lip as well as her forehead, as she readjusted her grip on the dead weight of the young wolf. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d broken a sweat like this. Most likely it was due to the remnants of the poison still leaving her system as her body fought against it. Perhaps this was what the flu was like? She’d run barefoot from the house of horrors. Her feet would recover from their trek across the coarse, uneven terrain, but despite what others believed the injuries still ached as the skin shredded and blistered. Her injuries from the silver still burned and bled. How many times had they given her poison in her unconscious state? Surely, she shouldn’t be so weak and injured still.
With a comatose Toby tossed awkwardly over her shoulder, she questioned the wisdom of ordering him to sleep but knew her discomfort was nothing compared to what the young wolf’s would be if he were awake. Carrying him, while ungainly and questionable, was better than him trying to control his pain and injuries. Despite his size and bolstering, he was still barely more than a pup and untrained, at that. It wasn’t until Ravyn had run well away from the house that she dared to stop and consider her next step. Staying hidden in the underbrush, she watched and waited for any sign that they were being followed.
Ravyn slowed her breathing as she strained to hear. The bastard had burst one of her eardrums with his last punch and the whoosh of air in that ear distracted her from possibly hearing what could be around her. Her healing was slow, too slow, and time wasn’t on their side. Ravyn suspected that Ibis’s time with the twins had introduced her to the ways of subduing vampires for extended periods of time. That sort of thing seemed right along their range of interests. Tilting her head, she quieted her ragged breathing and strained to hear anything out of her good ear, anything at all.
Silence… No birds chirped, no animals rustled in the underbrush. Either they’d all fled or been hunted to extinction by the creature or its minions. No alarm had sounded, so perhaps their escape hadn’t been noticed yet—although the estate’s alarms could be silent, or the creature could communicate through unseen bonds with those who served it. An entire plethora of reasons could explain the silence, and it was much too soon to celebrate an escape.
A sip of Toby’s potent shifter blood, no matter that it had been given unwillingly, had helped bolster her strength and burn off some of the vervain and wolfsbane. Lilith’s willing sacrifice helped even more, but still it wasn’t enough to have her at full strength after the poisoning and repeated draining.
Freeing herself, although difficult, had proven to be only the first step. Breaking apart Toby’s manacles had been even more difficult. Every time the silver chains moved, they burned deeper into his already tender wrists and neck. Combined with the shock and pain of his maimed hand, forcing him to sleep had been the kindest thing to do. Tearing the bottom of her already ruined dress apart, she’d attempted to wrap strips under the manacles to alleviate as much of the contact as possibly. She didn’t dare unwrap his hand to reuse the cloth; she would rather escape completely naked than reopen the wounds on his poor hand.
Even with the protection of the mangled cloth, his body had burned and he’d cried out against the silver as she ripped the manacles apart as quickly as possible. Shame flooded through her as her fangs dropped at the sight and smell of the fresh blood that dripped from his wounds. She couldn’t. She wouldn’t unless there were no other options. Surely, she had the strength to free them without resorting to taking more from him.
“We’ve got this Toby, we’ve got this,” she whispered to the unconscious pup as they waited in the underbrush for any sign that their escape was being monitored.
A low whine escaped Toby as his wolf responded to her nearly silent prayer. The creature within him had avoided her compulsion, leaving her feeling a bit less alone when its let its presence be known to her. Laying a clumsy hand on him, she attempted to soothe the beast inside the boy. Her eyes moved quickly over him, making certain that their run hadn’t jostled any more injuries. Her knowledge of human health was limited, to be sure, but Toby seemed the same; at least no worse. A bit feverish, warm for even a wolf; the same perspiration that drenched her hadn’t left him unaffected either.
The humidity felt so high in the vicinity that if someone told Ravyn they were trapped in a terrarium in full sunlight she would have believed them. The wounds on Toby’s wrists and neck seemed to have dried, and the dirty rag wrapped around his injured hand had remained in place.
Keeping low, Ravyn moved through the bushes, keeping her body between the still form of the young wolf and the house. Moving in the direction of the gate seemed like the best option. The grounds of the estate could go on for miles in the other directions, but the gate stood less than a mile away. Still, anything could lie between her and the gate. Although she’d only seen half a dozen of the wendigo’s demonic security guards, she couldn’t be sure there weren’t more. They also seemed short on witches, and Ravyn prayed to the goddess that Ibis and the wendigo hadn’t replenished those numbers in the last few hours.
Zigzagging through the undergrowth, Ravyn paused on a particularly dense spot, once again catching her breath as she examined the terrain in front of her, mapping out her next moves and stopping points. Focus. Losing focus or panicking could mean the difference between life and death. Prey panicked, and she was too old to be prey; refused to be prey. Never again would she be the young girl led to slaughter. Breathing deeply in and out, Ravyn refused to suppress her rage, imagining it growing as each breath of oxygen fed the tiny spark until it flamed. Fear couldn’t grow where rage burned, and it was rage that would keep Toby alive. Even if it killed her, she would get him out. How could she face Sebastian without his nephew? How could she face him when her own arrogance had led to him becoming maimed?
Ravyn held onto the hope that a transformation might still heal the young wolf. Given the chance, surely his fingers would regenerate as Fenrir’s magic overtook him? She wouldn’t allow herself to consider otherwise. She had to get Toby to Bash.
“Okay, Toby, hold on. We’re going to move again,” she whispered to the still wolf, once again hoisting him onto her shoulder, adjusting him to fit the best. Her waning strength wasn’t the only problem; the youth’s size definitely put her at a disadvantage. If the pup were even a few inches taller, he would be dragging on the ground. For the first time in her long life, she mentally cursed her height.
Ravyn had made it just a few steps when a sharp back hand across her face sent her flying back several feet through the undergrowth. Toby’s inert body flew in a different direction as she fell despite desperately trying to keep her grip on him.
Without giving herself a moment to even catch her breath, she landed and rolled up lightly onto her feet, her fingers forming claws. She positioned herself so that she still remained between Toby and the wendigo in front of her. Looking at the creature, she opened up her stance, keeping her clawed hands upright as she shifted her weight to a defensive position, expecting the enraged wendigo to immediately launch an attack at her.
Instead, the depraved creature let out a low laugh, showing rows of tiny, viscous teeth, tossing its deer-shaped head back, even exposing its furry neck as it did so in a sure sign that it saw her as weak.
“Awww, my queen,” it hissed between peals of gasping laughter. “You are all that I have been promisssed.” Laying its beady black eyes back on her, without a care in the world, it brought one blood-stained claw to its rows of sharp teeth. It picked absently at one tooth as it watched her, before removing the claw and flicking a piece of something that Ravyn decided not to imagine onto the ground beside it. The disproportionately long fingers tapped briefly on one another as it watched, waited for her to make a decision.
Bending her knees, Ravyn shifted her weight briefly, as her mind clicked through the possibilities. Run or attack. Neither were a good option. Outside of the wendigo’s arrogance, she knew next to nothing about its weaknesses, and more than likely it was as fast as her, if not faster, in her still weakened state. Perhaps she’d made a mistake in not having another sip of Toby’s blood? Too late for regrets now.
Despite the fact that she wore the mantle of being one of the oldest original vampires in existence, the creature didn’t appear to have even a smidgen of fear of her. Arrogance. A trait they both apparently shared.
“You did not disappoint me.” It spoke as though it had expected her to run. Its heavy, antlered head tilted as if considering the possibilities.
Ravyn wondered if it had known what it was doing when it forced Toby’s blood into her mouth. But did it know its ranks held a traitor? Or had that been a part of its plan? Every move continued to appear calculated and still she’d underestimated it.
“I wasn’t sure if you would take the pup or not,” it admitted. “You would have gotten farther without it. Dead weight, that one.” It huffed at her with a glance past her to the still silent Toby.
“Is this a game to you?” Finding her tongue, Ravyn bit out the words harshly, barely recognizing her voice, before realizing her nose had been broken. That would be why her face hurt so badly, but already she could feel the bones ever so delicately reshaping as her innate healing instinctively moved to fix the damage.
Damn, I need more sustenance.
“The biggest,” the creature admitted, watching her and apparently expecting some sort of reaction. With a wave of its lanky arm it added, “This is my hunting ground now. Roland, he hunts in the cities, but once he brings them here, it’s my turn. This is where their hope turns to despair. This is where they truly find out how badly they want to live.” After a pause it added, “They don’t live, of course, but some want it much more than others. And some humans want it surprisingly little. Ironic, isn’t it?”
Twisting its neck, it waited before Ravyn finally answered, “I suppose.”
Yes, yes, it nodded, bobbing its head as if pleased with her reluctant agreement. “I knew you were perfect for me. You see me. Just as the mage claimed.”
Was it referring to the decrepit old mage who had kidnapped and nearly killed Eva? Or to the magical remnants of her sister? Ravyn wondered but didn’t want to give the creature the satisfaction of her asking. It had been patiently playing the long game, perhaps even before she knew there was a game afoot. Damn her arrogance. The long years had made her lazy and complacent. If—when—she corrected herself, they got out of this mess, she was going to begin training again. Her muscles already ached from carrying the pup only the short distance. In her prime she wouldn’t have broken a sweat, let alone had to feel screaming muscles over such a task.
“Yesss, I regret his losss, and I’ll admit, I was so angry when he was gone. But in the end, he served his purpose. He broke those disssgusting bonds with that halfff-blood abomination, leaving you ready for me. I suppose a favor was done. I owe that witch nothing now.” A strange chittering sound left its mouth, perhaps a giggle at how things were working out so well.
“Fool he was. Even your sssister’s power boost wasn’t enough to keep his head attached.” It cackled at the idea.
Clicking its nails together as it spoke nearly drove Ravyn to lunge forward to rip the hands from its body. Fighting the urge to count the taps with a sharp shake of her head, she cursed the weakness. Tapping, tapping as it struck each nail against another, clearly in love with the sound of its own hideous, broken voice. But a weakness—it liked to hear itself speak—and Ravyn got information from the wendigo without asking a single question. Arrogance and ego will be thy death , she promised.
Spreading her hands to her sides, Ravyn offered, “You could let us leave now, and all is forgotten, forgiven.” She mentally spat at the creature, knowing it wouldn’t take this offer, but figuring it didn’t hurt to ask. “Your mistress is just as likely lying to you, offering me up after I transition her? Sounds suspiciously like she doesn’t expect me to break your curse. Using you to help her get what she wants and then in the end you get nothing. I would think eating pure magic might be a better option than my second-rate demon blood.”
“Awww, my queen, if only you were as clever as you are beautiful,” it cackled with a gurgle. Waggling its hips lewdly at her, it added with a sly hiss, “Thankfully, we don’t have to wait till the new moon to completely explore this new relationship of ours.” Adding a thrust in case she didn’t understand, it watched her carefully. “Our relationship is ssso much more than that. It has been ordained.”
Holding her face devoid of expression and steady, Ravyn promised herself that she would rip her own head off before she allowed that creature to touch her. “I would rather not,” she declined diplomatically.
The creature began gasping and hissing as mirth overtook it. Bending at the waist as laughter coursed through it, shaking on its deer-like legs as it fought to speak, it gasped the words out, “As ifff you have a choiccce.”
With a blur so fast that she missed its movement, it appeared in front of her, laughter abruptly cut off. Ravyn gasped in shock at the speed it appeared. Before she could react, it slashed her face with a single claw, cutting her skin to the bone of her cheek and jaw. Simultaneously, it grasped the front of her tattered dress in the other hand, ripping down to her waist as its talons grazed the skin of her torso. Dropping its voice low, it promised in a new, dark voice, “I could pluck your eyes out before you could react and be inside you before the blood hits the ground.”
Unblinking, Ravyn refused to drop her eyes at the horror it suggested. Taking slow, deep breaths as the creature stared back at her in the same unblinking way, she took the time to settle her frantic mind. Insane. The demon within the man was insane. Either it had always been insane, or its time on earth had made it so. Hell, maybe even the vessel it inhabited was the reason for this insanity, but regardless of the reason, it was clear there was no talking her way out of this one. And holy hell, it was fast and quiet. The damned creature didn’t make a sound if it didn’t want to. Its oversized, ungainly body seemed patched together, but it moved with the finesse and quickness of a honed warrior.
For a moment, they both stood completely still watching each other, separated only by inches. The demon expected her to be cowed by its unexpected move as well as its words. But she’d faced demons much worse than the one standing before her. Her death and rebirth were proof of that.
They were running out of time. The previous soft rays from the sun were beginning to wear upon her as it followed its well-worn path across the sky. Age had gifted her many things, but it also made her weaker against the sun. In the early days, she’d hidden from it in fear. She’d soon learned that it held no power against her, but as the years clicked past that changed. She estimated by the time she was one hundred years old, she’d lost just a few minutes of daylight and at this age, several hours a day of sunlight made her as weak as a kitten or, at the very least, a human. Cloud cover helped considerably, but today’s clear sky didn’t promise any help against the unrelenting sunlight. Temporary weakness was the price she paid for living in California.
“I have an alternative,” she offered, dropping her voice to a husky whisper.
The wendigo tilted its head as if eager to hear her offer, leaning in closer to hear her words. Interesting. Sharp hearing apparently wasn’t one of its heightened abilities. What might be interest crossed its face.
Raising her right hand to the blood on her cheek, Ravyn leisurely swirled it around before drawing it down to her neck and running the finger along her throat, down between her breasts. Slowly, patiently. At first, the creature’s eyes remained locked on hers but as her hand slid lower, it couldn’t help but glance down to follow the bloody trail along the front of her nearly naked body.
Gotcha, Ravyn thought gleefully, casually breathing in and out, careful to keep her face blank as she watched the demon follow her finger. She brought the hand back to her face, swirling it around the blood that now began to congeal on her face, ignoring her throbbing cheek.
The wendigo watched her intently, waiting for her next movement. Haltingly, Ravyn brought her bloodied hand upward to the wendigo’s face. She could only reach as far as its jawline. Steadying herself, she ran the finger along its jaw toward its now panting mouth, teasing the blood along its lips as its tongue darted out, trying to capture both the promise of her blood and her teasing touch.
Once again, Ravyn brought the finger to her own face to gather the tempting blood. This time she touched it just to its lower lip, sucking in her own as she gave her offering. From there, she ran the finger down the bottom of its long jaw, lazily, steadily. One of its clawed hands reached out, grabbing her by the hip and roughly pulling her against it; its touch once again nearly froze her to the core. As her hips settled against the creature, Ravyn forced herself to resist the urge to shudder or jerk way. Instead, she allowed a low moan to escape the back of her throat as she brought her hand down the long jawline and lower, where she could feel its throat swallow and pulsate against her touch.
Yes, right there, she thought as she let her claws extend.
With a vicious snarl, she wrapped her clawed hands around the creature's throat, fingers digging into its skin, breaking through as they grasped the tendons of its throat, tearing and ripping them away from the creature. With a hiss she released her fangs, pulling herself up while her talons held the wendigo in place.
Its eyes grew wide in shock as it frantically tried to push her away. Too late. Her fingers finished their journey through the flesh, grabbing the throat even as it attempted to pull away. With a wild screech, she dug her talons deeper as she simultaneously ripped away at its neck with her deadly fangs.
Deeper she squeezed her talons in and around its neck while ripping away with her teeth. Even as it finally desperately pushed her away, she kept her hold, biting down harder and digging deeper to hold her hands in the bits of sinew and flesh slick with its dark, sickening blood. The sudden spray of blood as its neck popped beneath her hands blinded her, burning her eyes, but she refused to let go, pulling its throat straight away and tossing it to the side even as she fell to the ground. Gleefully, she watched the wendigo’s strange dance as it wrapped its oversized hands around the gaping wound that had once been its throat.
Ravyn was certain the look on its face was a combination of shock and panic as it realized what had happened. It was still attempting to hold its neck together as it fell to its knees. Her bloodthirst paused momentarily as she blinked her eyes rapidly to clear them of the creature’s blood, unable to tear her gaze away from its downfall.
With fluid, rage-induced strength, she ripped a small sapling from the ground next to her and bounced lightly on her feet. Adrenaline filled her as she bounded back toward the wendigo even as it attempted to staunch the flow of blood from the fatal wound on its neck. Its mouth moved silently as if trying to form words—most likely threats against her. Nothing it said could possibly interest her and without a second thought, she drove the sapling up under its chin and through its head. With one slow blink, then a second, the creature’s hands fell uselessly to its sides, head lolling in an impossible way, followed by the rest of its body hitting the ground.
Ravyn watched it briefly before adding a kick to its solid torso. Damn, that hurt her foot, but the creature didn’t move again. Dead. It was dead. She and Toby were safe.
With a sigh she looked up at the sky. Closing her eyes, she allowed herself to briefly savor the moment. Wiping the blood away from her face the best she could before wiping her hands off on the remnants of her dress, she swiftly moved toward Toby. His heart still pumped slowly and softly, but he needed medical treatment. He needed the deadly collar off his neck and he needed to shift.
But there wasn’t enough time. Already the bright rays of the sun reddened her skin and burned her eyes. Blinking rapidly against the painful glow, she frantically scanned the area for an overturned log or branches short enough to fashion a lean-to thick enough to block the ultraviolet light as well as hide them from the view of Ibis or any minions faithful to the dead wendigo.
Weakened, with an unladylike grunt, she pulled Toby’s inert body deeper into the underbrush. The creature had kept the forest floor cleared, most likely to make it easier to tromp after his victims and allow them few places to hide.
Spying the trunk of an evergreen most likely torn from the ground by the wendigo and leaning against another, she hoped it was large enough to hide them both. Its wide roots draped with forest floor dirt and debris offered more protection against the rays than other options. With some effort, she pulled Toby under the macabre canopy, scooping piles of leaves over and around the two of them, knowing that an errant ray couldn’t harm Toby but might be detrimental to her if it lingered long enough once the sleep took over.
Hunger gnawed at her stomach. She was beginning to fear that the vervain had put her under for at least an entire day and night instead of hours like she’d first thought. The hunger was too great for only missing a feeding or two.
Darkness overpowered the hunger, weakening her limbs as the sleep of the full sun overtook her.
It has to be enough , was her last thought as she curled herself protectively over the still sleeping pup. Anything out here will have to get through me before reaching the boy , she promised anyone who might be listening.