Banewolf (Dark Siren Book 2) (26 page)

Even after reaching the manor, Rhane had a hard time believing what was in front of his eyes. Rogues were everywhere. York, Orrin, and River were all in skins, battling a ferocious horde. Ander and Matthias fought in true form. Their monstrous size towered over the cloaked demons that swarmed the manor. But the combined efforts of kindred and Warekin were not going to be enough to hold back the tide of violence.

Rhane dove into the melee, drawing Bellefuron from between his shoulder blades. He cut through the rogues, rolling heads with one strike as he urgently searched for Kalista.

The flames guided him. Bailen and the other kin had formed a circle around her, their bodies serving as a living barrier between her and the swarm. The few that managed to slip through Warekin teeth and claws met a destiny terminated in fire.

York had not aptly described the skill Kalista had reacquired. Her carnage was a dance—magical, graceful, and deadly. The twin blades in her hands belonged to Warren. But she wielded the weapons expertly and without mercy. Fire underscored every blow, finishing what the blood silver of her knives had not.

But there were too many rogues between him and Kalista. Rhane looked down at his hands. He could not reach her.

And the kin were steadily losing ground.

The mark became a hot iron in his palm as white fur rippled across his forearms. The ancient hunter climbed from the recesses of his mind, lunging for consciousness. Banewolf wanted to feed. It longed for blood.

Rhane took a hard look at Orrin, York, Bailen, River, and the two kindred. He imprinted their positions in
his mind, hoping to steer the wolf well away. But if he didn’t risk a transformation, they were going to lose the manor. And his friend would die.

Out of nowhere,
a deep bellow roared into the air, echoing in the surrounding forest. The ground shook in the aftershock of the challenge. Gabriel. And with him came the sound of dozens of feet moving together as one. Reapers. Hisses and groans cracked like whips as they drew closer. Many of the rogues gave pause, turning their pewter masks to face the approaching threat.

Rhane wondered how much worse his day was about to get.

Then Gabriel, nine feet of ugly and anger, crashed through the tree line. About thirty Reapers ran with him. They joined the battle without hesitation, attacking the rogues ruthlessly. When Gabriel unleashed his fury, no rogue could stand against him. A bloody path was cleared to Kalista in under a minute. 

Rhane couldn’t wrap his head around it. Once again, Gabriel was fighting for him—at least for the moment. Whether by order or choice, Reapers were helping too. If Rhane became Banewolf and lost control, he could end them all in seconds. He couldn’t guarantee their safety as Banewolf.

Slowly, he reversed the changes to his body, pushing the wolf back into submission. Fully human, he made use of the opening the Reapers and Gabriel had carved, hastily moving to Kalista’s side. The tide of this battle had turned. Fewer rogues were getting through. The kin had breathing room.

Rhane found York’s eyes over the battle. “Where’s Rion?” he called. The boy’s glaring absence had been a cause for concern since he’d arrived on scene.

The enormous brown wolf dispatched a mouthful of Rouge before answering.
Inside.

Rhane’s gaze flew to the manor.
Upstairs, a curtain moved. Not good. Plunging Bellefuron through an opponent’s chest, he took a moment to check Kalista over. Blood had stained her shirt crimson, but none of it was hers. She appeared unharmed. But the toxins had taken effect. Her eyes were unfocused, and she started to sway on her feet.

Rhane looked at the manor again. Third floor. Something there worried him. A flash of red. A parted curtain.  And then a rogue stood in the window. Long auburn hair hung from its gruesome mask. Hollow and lifeless slits stared back at him. Lara. Rhane was certain it was her.

The rogue lifted a bloodied hand and beckoned to him. Then she smeared the dripping appendage against the window. Rhane’s canines elongated as he roared in answer to her challenge. Fury darkened his sight, tunneled his vision.

He moved closer to Kalista, steadying her as she staggered. He couldn’t leave her. Looking around the field, he realized he no longer had eyes on Bailen.

“York.”
The brown wolf’s head whipped up as his warlord’s voice cut through the noise of the blood fest. Rhane switched to short whistle bursts, a form of communication only understood by other Warekin.
Go help Rion.

The murder in his
expression demanded urgency. Dispatching the rogue pinned beneath his paws, York obeyed immediately. He hadn’t seen whatever had gotten Rhane so riled up. But as he charged the manor in two bounds, other senses filled him in. Something bad was happening.

His
war skin was far too large to fit through the manor door. York shed the wolf form, becoming human without breaking stride. As he barreled inside, the smell of smoke burned his nostrils. More alarming was the scent of blood that hung beneath the smoke. Rion was hurt. The boy had been cut enough times during sparring for York to recognize the unique markers in his blood. When the rogues had descended on their territory, everyone was on the grounds helping Kalista practice…everyone except Rion. He was inside, still working on the decryption program. The idea of some monster covertly maneuvering past their defenses and hurting Rion while the rest of them were so close by made York dizzy with anger.

He concentrated on Rion’s blood, heading in the direction where the smell was the strongest. York didn’t know where
exactly in the manor Rion was when the attack started. The dwelling was so large. The boy could be anywhere. A room to room search by sight alone would take far too long. Rion didn’t have that kind of time.

T
he blood led York to the broom closet on the second floor. Within the closet was the entrance to a secret stairwell down to a level nonexistent on the manor’s blue prints. This third, subterranean floor also had direct access from a tunnel hidden in the nearby forest. Only the kin knew of it. Not even Ander or Matthias used that entrance.

Pausing at the closet door, York pressed his ear against the wall and listened. His superhuman hearing picked up the sound of two heart beats. One was faint. The other was solid, strong, and much closer. York spun around and nearly jumped out of his skin at the sight of the big canine that had padded up nearly undetected. 

“Bailen, what the hell?” Reigning in his annoyance, York let out a nervous laugh. The laugh died on his lips when Bailen snarled and lunged straight at his face.

#

Things were looking better outside. The kin, aided by Gabriel, his Reapers and the two kindred, were winning. Kali could have giggled with relief. It had been awhile since the last rogue had gotten through River and Orrin’s teeth or Rhane’s blade. Good thing. She wasn’t sure she could lift her arms to fight anymore. Looking off to her side, Kali was surprised to find the ground so close to her face. She must have gone down without realizing it. Becoming aware of wet warmth seeping through her blue jeans, she groaned. She didn’t have to look again to know her clothing was soaking up blood from the ground. Her head grew heavy and dropped to her forearms. She wanted to get up. The kin might still need her. But she just couldn’t summon the energy to move.

A rogue fell right next to her and Kali started in surprise. Black blood poured from slits in the
pewter mask. Its throat was nearly severed in half. Kali lifted her head. The action strained her neck as if it held the weight of a bowling ball.

Concern crinkled the pair of beautiful green eyes that
suddenly peered down at her. Rhane dropped to one knee. “Kalista, it’s their blood. Rogue blood is toxic.” His eyes constantly scanned around them even as he spoke to her. “Take your shirt off.”

Two attempts later, she managed to struggle out of the blouse. He took the nearly unrecognizable material and began wiping her face and arms. Kali guessed at what she must have looked like, envisioning a blood soaked teenager ready to kill everyone at prom.

With most of the toxic stuff gone, her head started to clear. Rhane’s hands were still on her, probably lending some of his healing magic to help her feel better. For a second, she thought River might need his help too. But the big gash that blazed glaringly across the gray wolf’s flank disappeared as soon as his human form emerged.

The kindred weren’t so lucky. Their injuries remained even when beasts became men again. None seemed too severe, but Matthias leaned heavily on Ander as they walked over.

Rhane must have noticed the same thing. “Is he going to be okay?”

Nodding, Ander shoved the smaller kindred upright. Matthias scowled at first. Then he grinned. Ander’s wild eyes drilled into Rhane. “He has a bit of flair for the dramatic.”

Kali snickered, wondering if the kindred really had any idea of how funny they were. A smile even hinted at Rhane’s lips before he turned back to Kali. He started to pull his shirt off but stopped. Beneath the dark color, it was as bloody as hers had been. 

“Orrin, she needs cover.”

Quickly shrugging out of his shirt, Orrin tossed it over to Rhane. Kali took the item of clothing gratefully. Long sleeves and flannel made a wonderful barrier against a chill that was setting in. Looking at Orrin with the intent to thank him, she froze. His body could have decorated every month of a yearlong calendar. Rhane smiled. “I know. It’s sickening, right?” he said as if reading her mind.

A blush warmed her cheeks. She ducked her head to hide it. “Wow,” she muttered.

Rhane squeezed her leg. “I need to check on Rion.”

“What about them?” River asked, discreetly indicating Gabriel and his Reapers.

Rhane nodded, but kept his eyes on his brother. “This is twice he’s saved my ass, isn’t it?”

River was silent.

Sighing heavily, Rhane pushed to his feet. “Orrin, stay with Kalista.” He took a moment to wipe Bellefuron’s blade clean and then sheathed the weapon. Several Reapers shuffled anxiously at his approach. Gabriel shrank in size, resuming Callan’s human form once more. Besides him, only three other Reapers appeared as humans—Tyler, Bentley, and Lloyd. It made sense. Gabriel no doubt had additional minions strategically placed in Kali’s life. Shannon and the three teens were no secret, so why not reveal themselves?

Ander and Matthias hung back as the two sides faced off, making Rhane and River seem totally exposed as they approached the Reapers on their own. Kali found herself worrying about York and hoping Rion was okay. She didn’t see Bailen. That worried her too.

“Hello, Banewolf.” It was Cal’s voice, but it was quite evident who held dominance at the moment.

Rhane cut straight to the point. “I don’t know why you helped us just now, or why you helped save Kalista in the forest. So tell me what you want.”

Gabriel’s red eyes shifted to where Ander and Matthias stood. “You have allied yourself with a breed our kind was sworn to destroy, treating them as friends, welcoming them as guests in your home.”

“I don’t see how that concerns you.”
Kali couldn’t see Rhane’s face, but his hard tone spoke volumes.

“We do not have to be enemies, Banewolf.”

“You started a war that nearly destroyed Warekin civilization. Your very nature makes you my enemy.”

Gabriel’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “I only intended to bring change. Our people were dying for no reason. Those Builders,” he spat the word, “had created something they could not control. Because of their action
s, many honorable Warekin died while we royals sat back and watched. I brought information that should have liberated us. But they turned their backs on me. War was necessary.”

“And yet here we are. Your war changed nothing.”

Stepping away from Rhane, a loud hiss breathed from Gabriel’s lips. “And what did you change, Banewolf?” Cal’s face glowered angrily. “You succeeded in what I didn’t. You destroyed the Warekin. You killed the very ones I tried to save.”

Rhane’s hands paled as they clenched into fists. After a long moment, he relaxed. “They took something precious to me.”

Gabriel’s entire demeanor softened. “Then you and I are on the same page.”

“What is that supposed—”

Kali missed the rest of the sentence because of the quiet shattering boom that permeated the air and was followed by silence. Deafened by the blast, she turned her head in the direction of the last sound she’d heard, and screamed. The manor had exploded.

Bailen charged
, not because he actually wanted to eat York’s face, but because something behind them wanted to eat York’s face. That proved to be little consolation to York as he tumbled down three flights of steps with a psychotic bitch chewing at his neck. Finally hitting bottom, he could properly take on the red demon. Between him and Bailen, the rogue didn’t stand a chance. But then an explosion rocked through the manor. An eardrum rattling, knock-your-dirty-socks-off-and-blacken-the-world blast ripped through York’s consciousness and effectively ended it.

Coming to
and not knowing how much time had passed, York took stock of the situation. Both arms and legs were still where they should have been. A good start. Ears were ringing. Vision was hazy. He could live with that. He tried to sit up but stopped with a gasp, thinking he would die from pain. “Damn it.”

A soft whimper rose from a corner in the room. Bailen.

York turned his head. That only hurt a little. “Hey, buddy.”

Bailen whined again.

“Can you come over here?” Silence. York’s heart skipped a beat. Then he heard soft padded footsteps and relaxed. A hot tongue lapped his face anxiously. York batted at the canine, surprised at how much effort such a simple action took. “You need to go.”

The canine did something he had never done before. He communicated with actual words of the war skin language.
No.

“Holy crackers. He speaks.” York coughed. Drawing the next breath was even more painful. “I think I’m banged up pretty bad. You need to go get Rhane.”

I leave with you.

“No, no. Don’t wait up.” He stopped
speaking to struggle for another lungful of air. “Look at it as you doing me a big favor. Pretend you’re a really smart collie while you’re at it.”

What is collie?

York laughed and instantly regretted it as ultimate misery ripped through his chest. Still, he couldn’t believe the kid was talking. He slowly worked his right hand toward his body. He had to figure out what was wrong. Starting at his belly, he crawled his fingers upward until he felt cold metal in a cylindrical shape. It was thin. Solid. And it was protruding from his chest. York lifted his head from the floor, expending a lot of energy to do so. The rod was a spear, but not just any spear. It was made of blood silver. He swore and collapsed.

Bailen confirmed it as if reading his thoughts.
Bad woman hurt you.

“Yeah.” York was wheezing now. Something he should have thought of a while ago ignited a spark of alarm. “Where is the bad woman?”

Bailen trotted off. Promptly returning, he dropped a severed limb next to York’s face. If York hadn’t been literally staked to the floor, injuries be damned, he would have jumped up running.

Four enormously long fingers ended in claws, curled into the floor like a giant
king crab. Shriveled grey flesh was marred by gnarled knots and wispy hairs that really should have never bothered growing. Black blood oozed from tears in the mangled skin. And the smell was disgusting.

“Okay.” York concentrated on slowing his breathing. Hyperventilating with a hole in
his chest wasn’t going to help matters. “Where’s the rest of her?” he asked, adding, “Don’t bring me anything else.” 

She
ran away. Took something from Rion.

York couldn’t feel his toes anymore.
And Bailen was beginning to sound really far off. Perfect. He tried to convince the kid to leave one more time. “You really…really need to go get Rhane.”

Bailen sat down.
No. Fire is coming.

“Oh hell,” York said. “The freaking kid is nuts.”

#

Rhane couldn’t wrap his head around it. Part of the manor had actually exploded. The blast occurred in the second l
evel of the west wing. Fire burned in the aftermath, completely engulfing that side of the manor, and quickly spreading. York and Rion were still inside. War was at large, and Bailen was nowhere to be seen.

He looked at Kalista. Fear
had etched itself boldly across her face, and her heart was pounding out of control. But he had to ask. “Exactly how far have you come in your training?”

“What?”

River placed a hand on his shoulder. Rhane ignored it. “Your training,” he repeated patiently. “Have you learned to control fire not of your making?”

“I-I don’t understand.”

“She can’t do it, brother.”

Shrugging away from him, Rhane moved closer so Kalista could only focus on him. He pressed his palms to either side of her face. “Kalista, the manor just exploded. That fire will to eat through it like kindling. I don’t know if York managed to
reach Rion. But they’re not out yet. River and I have to go in and get them.” Her eyes were wide and frightened. Rhane knew he was asking a lot. But he had to. “Can you control the flames? Buy us some time?”

She trembled so hard his hands started to shake. Tears brimmed in her eyes. “I-I don’t k-know how.”

Rhane shook his head. “It’s okay.”

“I’m sorry.” She choked back a sob.

“Shhh. It’s okay,” he repeated. Not knowing any other way to soothe her tears, Rhane kissed her cheek and forehead as tenderly as possible. He held her gaze, smoothing her tangled hair. “It’s alright.”

Then he let go. Stepping away from her, he looked at Gabriel and the Reapers. He didn’t want to leave Kalista’s side with them so close. But he couldn’t risk sending anyone else into the manor to get killed.
He couldn’t let his brother go alone. And Rhane couldn’t be in two places at once. He would have to trust Gabriel.

He pointed to the kindred. “You two and Orrin, stay with Kalista.”

River moved to his side. “We must hurry.”

“I know.” Rhane agreed but was having a hard time moving. Long ago, he’d left Rhaven, thinking the boy would be safe. That hadn’t ended well. And here he was about to leave his family again.

Watching Rhane’s every move until this point, the fallen Prime caught Rhane’s gaze and inclined his head slowly. “Your siren will be safe.”

While not exactly reassuring, it was the nudge Rhane needed. He took off at a run toward the manor, re
aching the front door in seconds. River paused, looking at him. “Follow the blood?”

Thinking back to the rogue, her form in the window, smearing blood against the glass, Rhane shook his head. “Follow their scents.” But York and Rion were
two separate trails. Rion was the closest. Rhane sent his brother after the boy. He would find York.

The
fire roared like a living monster, drowning out the sound of everything else. The heat was unbearable. Flames reached out as if hungry to taste flesh as he passed. The air was thick with smoke, singeing the lungs without mercy, stinging is eyes.

Upstairs was consumed by even more fire. But the smoke wasn’t as thick and breathing
here was a little easier. York’s trail continued through the hall but not past the broom closet—the secret entrance to the hidden level. Other markers overlapped heavily with York’s. Female. Hostile. The same scent Rhane had encountered at a certain bookshop. Lara. The rogue was inside his home. She’d hurt Rion. And she’d probably hurt York. Rhane stashed that anger for later, and pushed through the door.

Rion’s blood was everywhere, smeared at the top of the staircase and against the stone walls. No doubt it was what had drawn York
in this the direction. Bellefuron in hand, Rhane descended the staircase. Every sense was alert to any sign of attack. Nearing the base of the stairs, he heard a violent hiss moving up rapidly behind him. He lunged from the landing instinctively, and the parade of flames traveled past him like a runaway train, igniting everything they touched. Soon, the floor, the walls, and the ceiling were glowing angry orange. A piece of debris dislodged from the ceiling and hurtled toward him. Rhane rolled. The chunk missed him, breaking apart as it smashed into the floor. He jumped to feet with urgency pounding at his chest. Destruction from the upper levels had reached the basement. The manor was now a structural nightmare and could collapse at any moment. He had to find York, and he had to do it fast.

Calling York’s name, he listened but got no answer. “York!” he called again.

A faint noise whispered from a far corner, and Rhane went toward the sound, raising an arm to shield his face from mounting heat. The air was noticeably thinner as oxygen molecules were sucked away to fuel the fire. Rhane forced his eyes wide against the sting of smoke, not wanting to miss a crucial detail. Still, he was almost on top of York before he spotted him.

Dread weakened
his legs to the point of collapse. York was motionless. Not even his chest moved. Impaled through his ribcage was a spear that should have measured six feet in length. But only about four feet of the weapon was visible. The rest of it was hidden by York’s torso and drilled into the floor beneath him. Such a feat had taken an incredible amount of strength. And York was most likely unconscious when it happened.

Rhane stumbled over to his friend, unable to prepare for the possibility that he might already be dead. He knelt down to get a good look at the wound. The spear had pierced straight through
York’s heart and lung, pumping blood silver directly into his bloodstream. His veins had all but turned black from the poison. Darkened capillaries even splotched the paled skin of his face.

Rhane’s hands trembled as he reached out to touch
him. He steeled himself for the worse. York’s skin was cold, and his body, completely limp. Biting back a sob, Rhane listened.

Nothing.

Nothing.

There.
Faint, fluttery, and irregular, but it was a heartbeat. Cold fingers grabbed his hand. The grip was weak and already slipping.

But
Rhane’s breath expelled in a whoosh.