Chapter 16
Chapter sixteen
Damien
The jungle breathed around us, a living entity with its own rhythms. Its own hungers.
I could recognize the subtle differences between ordinary darkness and the kind that concealed predators. This darkness was both.
I leaned against the massive ceiba root, conserving energy while keeping watch. My diminished senses were a constant, maddening reminder that this place wanted me vulnerable.
The Wolf Queen’s magic had already stripped away layers of power I’d taken for granted since my turning.
My hearing, once capable of detecting a mouse’s heartbeat a hundred yards away, now struggled to separate the cacophony of jungle sounds into distinct threats and non-threats.
My strength, while still greater than a human’s, had deteriorated to perhaps half its normal capacity.
Luna slept several feet away, her breathing deep and even, though sometimes she talked in her sleep. Even in slumber, she maintained a certain alertness, her hand under her pillow with her machete, her body positioned for quick movement if necessary. A survivor’s instinct.
I found my gaze lingering on her longer than necessary. The slight furrow between her brows suggested her dreams were not peaceful. I wondered what occupied her sleeping mind. Perhaps her daughter? The child whose life hung by the same tenuous thread as my maker’s?
My chest constricted as I remembered the phone calls that had come before we arrived in Panama City, and after. Both had delivered crushing news.
“Elliot has taken a turn for the worse,” his doctor had said without preamble during the first call. “The healers give him only months. Maybe less.”
The ground had seemed to shift beneath my feet. “That’s not possible. The Wasting shouldn’t accelerate that quickly.”
“And yet it has. The corruption has reached his heart.” The doctor’s tone had softened. “Damien, you should prepare yourself for the possibility that you won’t return in time.”
I’d ended the call before he could continue, unable to process the implications fully. Now, alone with my thoughts in this hostile jungle, his words echoed with terrible clarity. Months. Maybe less.
We were at least three days from finding the crypt and extracting the Shadow Fang, and another three to return to civilization—assuming everything proceeded without complications, which seemed increasingly unlikely with each passing hour in the Wolf Queen’s domain. And that was for only one piece.
We might not make it back in time.
We might not make it back at all.
I might fail the vampire who had given me new life, who had guided me through the blood-madness of my turning, who had become more family to me than the fae court that had cast me out.
My eyes drifted again to Luna. She had her own desperate race against time. The same inevitable end without the Shadow Fang’s intervention.
Our “arrangement” had seemed so straightforward at the beginning. A transaction. Her tomb-raiding skills for my resources and connections. Then a fake engagement to navigate our way here. Simple. Clean. Temporary.
Now nothing felt simple or clean. The boundaries I’d maintained for centuries were blurring, the careful emotional walls I’d cultivated through decades of discipline compromised by the unexpected.
By her.
I flexed my hand, feeling the family ring that still refused to leave my finger. Its magic had recognized something in Luna. A connection that transcended our temporary alliance. A possibility I had engineered my long existence to avoid.
Immortals who formed attachments to mortals invited only inevitable grief.
I’d witnessed the madness that followed when a vampire lost human companions they’d grown to love—the spiral of destructive behavior, the centuries-long depression, sometimes even walking into a stake rather than continuing existing without them.
I had witnessed it firsthand. I’d lost a beloved human before, one I would’ve razed cities to save.
I could not afford to—
A movement caught my eye, instantly demanding my full attention. Something was approaching Luna’s sleeping form. I focused, cursing the Wolf Queen’s dampening effect on my vampire sight.
Oh, fuck. A Brazilian wandering spider. One of the deadliest arachnids in the world.
The hairy creature moved toward the edge of Luna’s sleeping bag and her shoulder beneath, its legs creating the barest whisper against the fabric.
I moved without conscious thought, crossing the distance between us in a single fluid motion. The spider, sensing my approach, raised its front legs in a defensive posture, revealing its distinctive red jaws beneath.
I reached for a stick to flick it away. The spider advanced another inch toward the opening of Luna’s sleeping bag.
“Get away from her,” I growled, extending the stick to guide the arachnid away.
The spider scuttled sideways, then forward again with surprising speed—straight toward Luna’s shoulder.
I lunged, sweeping the stick more forcefully to intercept the creature. The motion carried me farther than intended, deeper into the tangle of roots and undergrowth than I’d planned. My hand brushed against something smooth and cool.
Definitely not vegetation.
Definitely something alive.
Pain exploded in my forearm as fangs sank deep into my flesh.
I barely suppressed a curse, jerking back to see a fer-de-lance pit viper recoiling for a second strike, its triangular head weaving.
One of the most dangerous snakes in Central America, capable of delivering enough venom to kill several humans at once.
Under normal circumstances, such venom would be an inconvenience to my vampire physiology. It’d be painful, but I could metabolize it within minutes. But in my weakened state, with the Wolf Queen’s magic suppressing my abilities…
The venom burned like liquid fire as it entered my bloodstream. I retreated, keeping my movements controlled to avoid triggering the snake’s aggressive instincts further. My priority remained the spider still advancing toward Luna.
With my uninjured arm, I made a final sweep with the stick, successfully knocking the wandering spider several feet away. The arachnid scuttled into the undergrowth.
Luna stirred. Her eyes opened, instantly alert, her hand already reaching for the machete underneath her pillow.
“Damien?” she whispered.
“Stay still,” I said, my voice tight as the venom worked its way up my arm. “There was a Brazilian wandering spider near your sleeping bag. I’ve driven it away, but it may return.”
She sat up, scanning the area with those keen eyes that missed so little. Her gaze landed on my arm, where two puncture wounds were already beginning to swell.
“That’s not a spider bite,” she said, fully awake now and moving toward me.
“No. A fer-de-lance took exception to my presence.” I gritted my teeth against the increasing burn coursing through my veins. “Under normal circumstances, I would be fine.”
Luna was already retrieving the anti-venom kit from her pack. “But these aren’t normal circumstances, are they?”
I didn’t bother denying it. “The Wolf Queen’s magic is interfering with my body’s natural responses.”
She approached, kit in hand, her mouth pressed in a determined line. Without hesitation, she took my injured arm, examining the wound.
“So everything with fangs has come out to say hello,” she said, already preparing the anti-venom. “Will it kill you?”
“It’s…painful,” I said, hedging. “But I’ve endured worse.”
Luna shot me an exasperated look. “Will it kill you, Damien?”
“Unlikely. But without intervention, it could incapacitate me for several days.”
She nodded once, already cleaning the puncture site. “Hold still.”
I remained motionless as she administered the anti-venom. Her touch was gentle but confident, yet each brief brush of her fingers against my skin sent heat through me that had nothing to do with the venom.
“You were speaking in your sleep, you know. Something about running.”
Her face flushed. “Just a dream. About shifting. Not that it matters. I haven’t been able to shift in over three years.”
“That doesn’t mean you don’t remember. Or miss it.”
She fell silent at that, and I knew I’d unintentionally struck a nerve. The quiet between us stretched, something I didn’t remember it ever doing before.
“You have experience with snakebites,” I said.
Sometimes I amazed myself at my skill level for stating the obvious.
She shrugged. “Two weeks in the basin tracking down the Obsidian Mirror,” she explained without looking up. “Five in various parts of Asia for the Dragon Scrolls. You pick things up along the way.”
I studied her face as she worked—the slight furrow of concentration between her brows, the way she tucked her lower lip between her teeth when focusing on a delicate task. Small details I should not have been cataloging, but I couldn’t ignore them either.
“Thank you,” I said.
“You’re welcome.” Luna finished bandaging my arm, her eyes finally meeting mine. “You know, for someone who’s supposedly superhuman, you’re turning into a lot of work.”
Despite the burning pain in my arm and the dense weight in my chest from the two phone calls, I smiled. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”
“Apology accepted.” Luna studied me for a moment longer then shook her head slightly. “Get some rest. I’ll take second watch now. That anti-venom might make you drowsy, vampire metabolism or not.”
She was right. Already I could feel my body responding to both the venom and the counteragent, a heaviness settling into my limbs.
Under normal circumstances, I would have resisted and maintained my watch regardless of my physical discomfort.
But here, in this place where all normal parameters had been suspended, I yielded.
As I settled on the cot, Luna positioned herself at the perimeter of our small camp, her profile outlined against the deeper darkness of the jungle, watchful and determined.
The weight of the doctor’s news still pressed upon me, the knowledge that I might fail Elliot after centuries of loyalty. And the second phone call… I touched the strange warmth of my engagement ring and flexed my hand into a fist.
I would deal with the repercussions of that phone call later.
But as consciousness began to fade, I found myself focusing on only one troubling possibility—that completing our mission successfully, finding all five pieces of the Shadow Fang, might mean never seeing Luna Rookwood again.
Why that prospect disturbed me as much as failing my maker was a question I wasn’t prepared to answer.