Chapter 33
Chapter Thirty-Three
Lucas
The compound smells of smoke and copper, and the sun has climbed high enough that the haze above the yard now looks gold instead of gray.
I stand atop the perimeter wall with my hands braced on the stone, watching my men carry our dead out, one row at a time. Reese is at the head of the line, his shirt black with somebody else’s blood. Behind him, two men carry a dead body.
Darius and I knew we wouldn’t get out of this unscathed, but losing so many is devastating. Our pack lost three hundred soldiers. Moonvale, a similar number.
I make myself look at each one.
We have moved the surviving Covenant operatives to the far end of the yard. I don’t know what the witch did, but they are now normal shifters. Well, as normal as they can be; their wolves are gone. They are still in shock.
I push off the wall when I hear the aerial vehicles arriving. I go down to greet them. The worst of the injured will be carried back to Silvercrest in these, and more will arrive to transport the rest.
On my way back, I walk through the area of the grounds where an open-wall infirmary tent has been set up. Some of our fighters are lying on cots, some on the ground, and in one corner, on her back with two healers still working on her, is the witch.
The old woman’s thin chest is barely rising and falling.
Her hair is matted at the temples. Someone on the staff has stripped the dirty rags off of her, replaced them with clean linen, and folded her hands on her stomach.
Her fingers are thin and limp there, the knuckles like small stones under her skin.
There is dried blood crusted at her ears and under her nose.
Sienna is sitting on a low stool at the woman’s shoulder.
She hasn’t left her side. One of my soldiers must have given her his jacket; the shoulders are too big on her, the cuffs pushed up over her wrists.
Her hair is loose. There is a long, shallow cut down her cheek that has scabbed over already, and a bruise is blooming purple at her jaw where Lydia’s elbow caught her. She is holding the witch’s hand.
I cross to her. The healer at the next cot lifts his head, gives me a small nod, and returns to his work.
Sienna feels me before I reach her. Her shoulders lift slightly, and her chin turns toward my hip.
“How is she?” I murmur. “Any change?”
“Still breathing.” Her thumb is drawing slow, small circles on the back of the witch’s hand. “She hasn’t woken up.”
I crouch beside the stool. “How did she do it?” I keep my voice low. “Every one of them like that?”
“I don’t know.” Sienna shakes her head. “She collapsed right after. The healer says she has too many injuries and is malnourished. Those monsters broke her legs to stop her from escaping, Lucas. And she was tortured. For years, I’d say, from the depth of the old injuries.”
I put my hand on her shoulder as I think about something else. Sienna is convinced this woman is Meera, the missing witch. It’s very possible. But until I hear it from the witch’s mouth, I won’t believe it.
Darius is crossing the yard with Violet a step behind him.
He is now wearing a borrowed shirt that does not fit him, and there is a fresh bandage at his temple.
Violet has not changed at all. Her shirt is still ripped at the collar, her knuckles are still split, and the line of her mouth is still tense.
I rise. Sienna squeezes the witch’s hand once and stands beside me. Darius stops on the other side of me. His eyes flick to the cot, to the witch, to Sienna, and back to me. He keeps his voice down.
“We’ve been through the offices. They kept records. Clean ones. Detailed. Cross-referenced. Whoever was running the bureaucracy here had a system.”
Violet folds her arms over her chest. “If nothing else, you have to give the Covenant credit for that. They are organized.”
“How many bases?”
“Eleven that we’ve confirmed so far. Hennessy has the list. Three in our region, four west of us, two east, two on the southern border.
” Darius’s jaw flexes. “Every pack we share a boundary line with has been notified. By tomorrow morning, the closest four compounds will have been hit. The rest will fall over the next week.”
“Sleeper agents?”
“Identified. Names, placements, length of tenure.” He drags a hand down his face. “Some have been embedded for fifteen years, Lucas. All in positions of power. Their packs have been informed.”
A chill runs down the back of my neck, and Sienna has gone still beside me. I find her hand at my hip without looking and take it. Her fingers fold around mine. They are cold.
“And Lydia’s network?”
“Mapped. Three of her operatives are still at your estate. They don’t know she’s dead. Reese is sending a team back to take them quietly before the news travels.”
“Good.”
A thin figure steps out of the haze at the far end of the yard. It’s Lillian.
She crosses to us slowly, picking her way between the bodies my men have not finished moving yet. Her hair hangs loose against her neck. Her eyes are red at the edges.
“How long are we staying here?” she asks when she reaches us.
“As long as we need to. We have to figure out how they were doing this to the shifters. The enhancement. If we don’t take it apart down to the studs, somebody else will pick it up where the Covenant left it.”
“It will not happen again.”
I look at her. She is gazing at the woman on the cot.
“Lillian?”
“I went down to the lower holding cells with Reese a few minutes ago,” she says. “We found the hybrids.”
Sienna’s hand tightens on mine.
“How many?” Darius asks.
“Fifty bodies.” Lillian’s voice does not waver. “All drained. My missing friend, Lissa, was the third one we pulled out.”
Violet makes a small sound. “Oh, Mom…”
Her mother holds up her hand, her voice rough.
“Don’t. I’ll be fine.” She looks at the witch again.
“The way she dropped them, I think she had every one of those enhanced shifters tied to her. All of them. One witch, holding the working that kept their bodies stitched together. The healing. The strength. Those wounds closing under the dark sheen. It was her magic running through every one of them, every minute of every day, for years.”
“That isn’t possible,” Darius says carefully. “No witch can hold that many threads at once.”
“She didn’t. Not on her own.” Lillian’s mouth tightens.
“They were feeding her from the hybrids in those cells. Untapped wells of magic in bodies that had never learned to use it. They hooked her into them like pipes into a reservoir, and she pulled the magic through and into the shifters. The hybrids died slowly. She lived only because they kept replacing them.”
The tent spins around me, and my voice does not sound like my own. “For how long?”
“At least a decade. Probably longer.”
“Goddess.” Sienna’s voice is low, her forehead finding my shoulder.
“It explains the disappearances,” Lillian goes on. “It explains why every dead body we have found is so aged. As the magic is sucked dry, the hybrids’ youth vanishes.”
“And…Violet?” Darius says slowly.
Lillian’s eyes meet his. “That’s why they wanted her. A bonded hybrid is not merely a well; she is an infinite source. The bond with her mate keeps refilling her faster than they can drain her. They could have run a hundred enhanced shifters through my daughter without killing her.”
Violet has gone very pale against Darius’s side. “They would not have killed me.”
“No,” Lillian confirms quietly. “They would have kept you. For the rest of your life.”
Nobody speaks.
The witch on the cot draws in a long, uneven breath. Sienna’s head turns toward the sound, and her hand comes out of mine.
“Lucas.” She is bending over the cot.
I move closer.
The healer has come back to the witch’s side, his palms a warm gold over her ribs. His mouth is set in concentration. A long minute passes. The gold deepens, fades, deepens again. The witch’s breathing eases. Her eyelids twitch.
The healer sits back on his heels.
“Her tongue is mended, Alpha. Her legs, as well. Both of them, though the bones knitted around what was already crooked. She’ll walk, but she’ll favor the left side.
” He wipes his hands on a cloth from his belt.
“Be careful with her for the next few days. She has nothing left in reserve. Whatever she did when she dropped those shifters, she has paid for it twice over.”
“Understood.”
He gathers his satchel and leaves us.
I lower myself to one knee beside the cot in the place he left vacant.
The witch’s eyes are open now. They are a pale, washed-out gray. They find my face slowly, their focus pulling itself together one degree at a time.
“How are you feeling?” I ask.
She does not answer.
Her gaze drifts past my shoulder. Her eyes find Sienna holding the back of her hand, and her entire demeanor changes. The lines at her mouth soften. Her thin fingers turn over and grip Sienna’s.
“Thank you,” she rasps. Her voice is like tissue paper.
Sienna shakes her head, blinking. “I can’t imagine what you’ve suffered. I’m so sorry we didn’t find you earlier.”
The witch gives her a slow, tired smile. It is almost too big for her face.
“I dreamed of escaping for a long time.” Her tongue passes over her cracked lower lip. “Then, they broke my legs. I do not have healing magic like shifters do. They kept me drained, used me as a medium. I didn’t think I would ever—”
Sienna’s eyes fill with tears.
The witch’s pale, gray eyes lift to mine. “My name is Meera.”
The words come out clearly despite the rasp, and my chest tightens. It’s my mate’s hand grasping mine that steadies me.
Sienna was right.
She smiles softly at the witch. “We met your niece. She’s going to be so happy to have you home. She’s missed you terribly.”
“Home.” The woman’s gaze drifts past us. “I haven’t thought about home in a long time. How is Fiona?”
Sienna wipes the tear that is now falling down the side of her face. “Well, you should think about it now. And Fiona…has grown up.”