Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
Zack
Santiago Wacerra—the famous monster hunter—is giving me a piggyback ride. When Grandpa told me to get my ass to the middle of nowhere to take over a minor pack, I never thought it might come to this.
I wish I had my phone on so I could have picture proof.
We don’t make it far before moaning breaks the heavy silence in the air. Santiago picks up speed and we pass them in a blur. I’m not sure they even pay attention to us. Based on the sounds she makes, the little blue-haired spitfire is having a good time.
It was pure luck that I happened upon her when I did. Otherwise, she would have been caught by the shifter. Damn thing fought like a possessed beast. The protective instinct rears its head as soon as I think about it, so I push the thought away and focus on staying calm.
No wolfing out on the vampire’s back.
I have to give it to the hunter. Despite me being bulkier than him, he moves smoothly and carries me into the house without jostling my injured leg.
“How’s the leg feeling?” he asks after helping me onto the couch.
“It’ll heal.” The break was pretty bad, but my natural healing combined with the vampire blood should fix everything up in a couple of days. Shit timing. I need to be in top shape to keep the pack in line.
“You want to call for a ride or…”
“Yeah. You have a phone I can borrow?”
He hands me his phone and I call the beta.
“They’re on their way. Should be here in five minutes or so,” I say once I hang up, like the vampire didn’t hear every word on the call.
“Handy, them being so close,” he mutters and paces around the living room. Every two seconds, he throws a glance out the window. “What’s taking them so bloody long?”
I don’t even pretend not to misunderstand. “Fucking.”
He flashes his fangs at me and then goes back to staring out the window until a car sounds at the front of the house and he blurs out of the room. My leg gives a twinge when I try to get up, so I slump back down and cross my arms.
Better to look like I’m staying put as a choice than show weakness at the first encounter. I can take any of them even with a handicap, but if I don’t need to bite necks in the first five minutes, things tend to go smoother overall.
There’s a place for brute force and it’s when diplomacy fails. One of Grandpa’s favorite sayings.
Wacerra leads in two wolves. They introduce themselves just as the back door opens, so I don’t pay attention. Rafael says something about a shower and Samantha agrees. Soon, I hear water running upstairs. Yeah, they would need one. I could use one too.
“Alpha Courtkenay, we need to get you to the pack lands. Get the healer to see to your injuries,” the wolf in front of me insists. She’s high in the pack hierarchy, the other wolf with her is the muscle. Some young pup who continuously glares at Santiago.
“I’m fine,” I say and refuse to budge. I’m not going anywhere until I talk to Samantha and figure out why she was running alone in the forest. I need to see that she’s fine with my own eyes. Smell her again. Make sure she—
The female clears her throat, cutting off my thoughts. “Alpha Courtkenay—”
“Zack,” I interrupt her. I appreciate that she’s using my title as alpha and making a separation from her alpha, but all this formality is hurting my head right now.
“Alpha Zack.”
Fuck, that’s not much better.
“The pack needs your presence.”
“And I will attend to their needs soon,” I bark.
Usually, I’m good with pack politics and patience, but she’s really getting on my nerves right now.
“I could go scout the site again,” the muscle grumbles, shifting from foot to foot.
“You are not going anywhere without Mr. Moretti’s explicit approval,” I growl, putting some alpha oomph into my tone.
“The pack has already offended his hospitality enough.” I’m happy that Henry’s beta gave a proper report when he called.
Otherwise, I might have agreed with… “What was your name again?” I ask the muscle.
“Jere, Alpha Courtkenay,” he replies.
I nod my thanks. I might have agreed to Jere’s request. What possessed Henry to bring a witch onto vampire land unannounced, I don’t know. A witch with a concealment spell, no less. Talk about adding insult to injury. They were lucky that Moretti only took a sip and not her head.
“Alpha—”
“Shut up,” I say, forcing my tone to stay even, and lift my leg on an ottoman that Santiago nudges my way. The vampire is a decent bloke, for a hunter, and has no need to throw his weight around. I’m not sure which one of us would come on top in a fair fight.
Right then, Samantha stumbles into the room with a wide yawn. From the looks of it, she’s wearing a T-shirt and nothing else. Her short blue hair is sticking around, like she gave it a rough towel dry and then ran her fingers through it. Or he did.
Moretti follows her, wearing a pair of jeans and no shirt. There are several bite marks visible on his neck and shoulder and the bastard is showing them off.
“Not the witch,” Samantha mumbles and looks at Rafael expectantly.
“No. Wolves,” he replies and she relaxes. Ah, she expected the witch to be back.
“This is Jere.” I wave my hand at the man. “And this is…”
“Olivia,” the woman supplies when it’s clear I don’t remember her name. The look on her face sours. Ugh, more ruffled feathers.
“Olivia,” Samantha says and tilts her head. “You don’t smell like fucking potpourri.”
“What?” Olivia spits out. Both Santiago and Rafael chuckle at that.
“Good, neutral, or bad?” Rafael asks her and she sniffs harder.
“He’s yucky,” she says, pointing at Jere. “She’s neutral”—she points at Olivia—“and he’s good,” she finishes, pointing at me. “Not Santiago good, but who is?”
“Me?” Moretti asks with a painful expression and she shakes her head, smirking.
“Nothing beats lemon-meringue pie.”
“What the fuck is she talking about?” Olivia snaps.
“Watch your tone,” I grind out just when Moretti opens his mouth. He stays silent after my reprimand and nods. Olivia shuts her mouth but bristles.
“How are you? Is the leg hurting you?” Samantha asks, ignoring the others as she makes her way closer.
Olivia moves to intercept her and Samantha lets out a feral hiss that halts Olivia in her tracks. She’s unsure if she can take Samantha on and shows some sense, not inciting a fight.
“It’s going to take a couple of days before I’m running again, dove. Don’t worry, I’m fine,” I say and pat the sofa beside me.
Samantha sits down and proceeds to curl beside me and rest her head on my shoulder. I glance at Moretti and Santiago to see what they think about it, but neither of them shows a flicker of emotion, unlike Olivia, who is blushing furiously, and Jere, who’s fisting his hands.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know,” Samantha whispers. It takes a moment for me to figure out what she’s apologizing for. She didn’t know about the bonding.
“It’s all right, dove. No harm done. I wouldn’t be up without you.” I don’t regret it, even if I might have made a different choice had I known… but her wound needed to be cleaned and I needed to start healing. If the beast had returned…
“Well, I wouldn’t be alive without you.”
“Don’t be so sure.” I try to keep my tone light and reassure her.
“I am. That thing already killed a wolf. It would have killed me too.” Samantha’s voice wavers at the end and I lift my arm, tugging her closer to my side. I don’t like hearing the fear in her tone or feeling the slight tremors running through her.
“Alpha Zack, what—”
“We ran into a shifter of some kind in the woods. It attacked Samantha. Luckily, I happened to be close by and managed to intervene.”
“A shifter,” Jere rumbles and looks suspiciously at the vampires.
“A shifter,” I confirm. “Samantha thinks she smelled the same scent around Alyssa’s body.”
Now their interest is solely locked on the creature by my side. I look down and see her eyes have fallen shut and her breathing evened out. Sleeping—she’s sleeping under my arm, in a half-sitting position. When her eyes are closed, I notice faint shadows beneath them and the paleness of her skin.
Fragile, her skin looks like it could tear from a harsh glance.
Worried, I look at Moretti and now I can see the strain in his eyes. There’s something going on here, something concerning Samantha, and my instincts roar, demanding that I defend her. Carefully, I maneuver her into a more comfortable position and then look at my wolves.
“Keep your voices down,” I say.
Jere surprises me when he reaches for a blanket lying on the chair next to him and holds it out to me. I take it and wrap it around Samantha.
“We need to plan and since the body and the attack happened on Mr. Moretti’s land, he—they”—I nod at Santiago—“are involved in that planning.”
Grudgingly, Olivia nods. “Should I call the beta over?”
“No. We will fill in the rest of the pack later. Please make sure you have the contact information for Mr. Moretti and Mr. Wacerra and that they have mine. And yours,” I add after a pause.
We need to hunt this thing down and clear communication hopefully helps us all avoid unnecessary conflicts along the way.
“I stumbled on the body and we inspected the site,” Santiago says, pulling all our attention to him. “Alyssa wasn’t killed on the spot. I don’t think the body had been there for long. There were still marks and blood on her, despite the heavy rain.”
“Someone, the thing, left her on my land on purpose,” Rafael adds silently. He’s clearly trying not to disturb Samantha. “It’s possible that Santiago interrupted the thing, and it dropped the body by accident, but somehow, I doubt that.”
“Maybe the plan was to dump the body on the porch.” Santiago frowns.
“Why would—”
“To stir trouble,” Jere interrupts Olivia, who didn’t care to keep her voice down. “And it would have worked, if not for the fact that our pack has never had a problem with Mr. Moretti or anyone visiting him.”
I raise a brow at them and Jere smiles a bit. “I don’t like vamps, but if I can choose my neighbors, Mr. Moretti is not half bad.”
“I take that as high praise,” Moretti says drily.
“Everyone loves Alyssa,” Olivia whispers, finally lowering her voice. “I can’t think of anyone who would do this to hurt her. And Alpha hasn’t had any challengers in the last ten years. He’s a good alpha, fair and strong.”
“So in-pack grudges are a highly unlikely motive,” I muse out loud.
“I haven’t heard any issues with other shifters either, but the beta would know more,” Olivia adds.
“What about all the other females?” Santiago asks. “Are we sure they are related to this incident, since none of them have turned up dead or otherwise?”
“What other females?” What the hell is going on here? Henry’s beta didn’t mention anything about other females. I hate being blindsided.
“That was one of the things we need to bring you up to speed with, Alpha Zack,” Olivia hurries to explain. “There have been females going missing for a while now, both shifters and witches. Alpha asked Mr. Moretti to make inquiries in vampire circles.”
“Which I haven’t had the time to do.” Rafael sighs and pulls out his phone. “I’ll get the ball rolling now, but it might take a while to get any reply, let alone anything resembling a full picture.”
“Anything else I should know right now?” I ask.
“Only pack business,” Olivia says.
“So the thing in the woods,” I begin just as Samantha shudders in my arms. Her eyes fly open, but they are empty.
She whimpers, a sound that rakes my insides, and both vampires lurch closer.
Reluctantly, I let Moretti take her from my arms. Olivia blessedly keeps her mouth shut and doesn’t intervene.
“Do you feel anything?” Santiago asks me while he supports her head. “You are the only one who has had her blood.”
“No…” I try to focus. There’s a bond, but it’s so faint and frail that nothing comes through. “I get nothing from her,” I murmur.
Samantha blinks, but her gaze remains vacant. Without hesitation, Moretti claws open his own throat and lifts her to the wound. Yet, she doesn’t drink, only whimpers in pain. I try to get to my feet, but Santiago steps in my way.
“She can’t drink from you,” he mutters quietly. I’m not sure if Olivia and Jere heard him, but it’s clear he doesn’t want them to know. “Trouble on top of trouble,” he then grinds out and for a moment, his cool exterior drops.
“No, no, no,” Samantha whispers and tries to claw her own throat. “It’s… the calling…” She pants the words, twisting in Moretti’s arms.
“Sweetheart, what is it?” he asks while Santiago holds her hands, keeping her from tearing her own skin.
“Th-thing,” she whispers and then jerks so hard, they almost drop her. “Get it out of me! Get it out!”
Her sudden shouts are pained and frantic. “Get it… out of me. Please. Get it out.” Tears stream down her face and I’ve never felt so helpless. “Please.” The last plea is faint, but she manages to tear one hand free and rake a long, ugly wound down her neck.
The smell of rot and putrid blood fills the air.