CHAPTER 53
There had to be at least twenty witches on the front lawn, all chanting in unison, a language Caster had never heard before.
Mark’s transformation had been beautiful to behold, even faster than before, confirmation that his trip to the Underworld had enhanced him somehow.
The Water Witches’ chant reached a new crescendo, and the house shook again, this time with so much violence he feared it would break.
But it was clear Ethel was much weaker than before. The house withstood a second bout of their power, and Caster took his eye off Mark for a second to get reassurance from Riley that the house would hold. It was the Prime Alpha’s growl and Edie’s shout that alerted him to Mark’s ill-advised action.
One second he was by his side, the next he leaped at the witch, his considerable size reducing the distance to a single leap.
Mark’s name tore from his lips as he too took off towards the witch and her circle.
The slow smile spreading across Ethel’s face was a warning that Mark failed to notice and Caster deciphered too late.
The black mass that was her power sailed across the tiny distance separating them, landing with a sickening crunch into Mark’s wolf. The sound he made would haunt Caster all his life. It reminded him of mourning, somewhere between a scream and a tortured howl.
He crashed to the ground just as Caster reached him. His eyes rolled back into his head, blood pouring out of the wound the magical attack had caused. The wolf's body twitched in Caster’s arms and with one last howl transformed to human form before all movement ceased.
Caster was aware of the frantic movement behind him as the others battled Ethel and her contingent of witches, but all his blurry eyesight could focus on was Mark.
Why wasn’t he healing? There was a large gash across his chest, the wound ghastly to look at, more blood than he thought one body could hold seeping past it to stain Caster’s clothing and the grass a deep red.
“Mark?” He cried out, shook his limp body, but Mark remained out of reach. He lost the battle with his tears as he searched for any indication that Mark was even alive. Caster took a breath, gathered everything in him, and searched for that signature heartbeat.
“Hey… Caster?”
Riley?
He recognized the voice, but he wouldn’t turn to his friend, not until he was sure Mark was still here.
A heavy arm landed on his shoulder, but he brushed it off, called on his waning strength, and focused.
The thud reached his senses, and relief washed over him.
The next one was too far away from the first, and the hope he’d only just acquired fell to pieces.
He turned to Riley, who had since dropped to his knees. “Fix it.” The powerful witch was too slow to react. “Make him better. I want you to fix him, right now!”
He was about to reiterate his demand when Riley reached for Mark. “Let’s get him inside?”
Caster kept his senses zeroed in on the distant thud of his too-slow heart.
But he brushed Riley away again when he reached for Mark.
His vision blurred by tears he feared would signal his weakness, he gathered Mark into his arms and leveled Riley with his best stare. “You will fix it, do you hear me?”
His friend nodded, and he carried Mark past the lawn littered with most of the Water Witches Ethel had brought, his focus the safety of their bedroom.
The others said nothing as he walked past them.
He caught the Prime Alpha’s gaze. The immeasurable pain in those blue eyes was considerable, but nowhere close to what he felt.
Mark’s heart remained hidden, the beats spaced out, but he held on to the hope each thud brought.
Kyle unlocked the door to their room, and Caster was faced with a new considerable battle.
It took everything in him to place Mark on the bed.
The grief calling to him manifested into a fury that was uncontainable in its capacity.
He released it in a roar that shook the room.
He paced at the foot of their bed, his anger rising by the second, and then stomped into the adjacent living area.
The pristine whiteness of the room was an affront to the darkness infecting his soul. He grabbed the couch, his considerable strength breaking the piece of furniture in two. The sound of his destruction as he tore the room apart, destroying everything in it, battled for the roar in his mind.
The door burst open, and he snapped the table in half, throwing it at the person attempting to walk in.
The Prime Alpha caught the pieces with minimal ease, and Caster snarled at him, warning him to keep his distance.
Dean ignored that warning, walking into the room with the foolishness of only one who has absolute confidence in their strength.
Caster grabbed what was left of the couch and threw it at his head.
Dean dodged the weapon and advanced too fast for someone so large, barreling into Caster, sending both of them to the floor.
Caster fought against the considerable weight pressing down on him, calling on all his strength to push Dean off him.
He’d only just regained his feet before someone else was holding him back.
“Stop!” Damien’s hardened tone forced the single word past the roar in his mind. He struggled against his cousin’s strength and almost won, but then Dean stood before him, a threat in the flash of amber in his eyes.
The fight drained from him in the instant he remembered the reason for his anger, and he sagged against Damien.
“You, good?” Dean asked, his voice infused with the underlying growl of his Alpha.
His nod was small and a lie. There was no way he would ever be good, not without Mark. Why would this happen?
I don’t know. But he needs you. He’s not dead.
Damien’s voice in his head was the first indication he’d lost more than his mind. He tried to find that barrier that would keep other vampires from his mind, but he was too tired to rebuild it.
Damien eased his hold a fraction and guided him to turn. He placed his hands on his shoulders. “One step at a time.”
The haze of his fury lifted enough for his awareness to return. He saw Marcus and his father, staring at him with the one thing he hoped never to see from both men: sadness. He was aware of his mother’s stare, but looking at her would only increase his pain.
“My father’s army is still out there somewhere,” Damien said, pulling him away from his self-pity. “How about a little hunting trip?”
He shook his head. As enticing as it sounded. He couldn’t leave Mark alone, not…
“That sounds like a very good idea,” His mother said, and he forced himself to look at her. Her smile did nothing to ease his pain. “I’ll stay here with him.” She stepped into the room, her movement tentative as if she feared spooking him. “Riley is already trying to find a way to help him.”
He turned his attention to Damien and nodded at his cousin.
“I’m coming too. Goddess knows I need to kill something,” Dean said, his breath a bit short.
Caster allowed Damien to lead him away from Mark.
In the haze of his fury, he’d forgotten to listen for the comfort of his heart.
He stopped, took a breath, reached for that gentle, slow thud, and his hope returned, though not enough to dilute his fury.
He heard his mother speak to Mark, the comfort of her gentle tone further soothing the ache in his heart.
Damien nodded at him, and he reached for the fortifications around his mind. He’d lost control of that barrier for the second time in centuries. His hands curled into fists, his knuckles cracking from the pressure as he collected the full force of his fury into purpose.