Blood Reign (#4): Alpha Warriors of the Blood (The Blood Series) (17 page)

Tony rolled to his side, his body shaking with injury and chilled by the cold water of the ditch. He heaved anything that remained inside his stomach into the weeds.

Bitch,
he thought in uncharitable reflection. Though realistically, he was lucky to be alive. He had only himself to blame. Tony should have smelled a female Alpha five miles away
.
But no
.
He'd been so intent on killing the old jag up, he'd royally fucked up what should have been a simple carjacking. Now a female Alpha had handed him his ass, and he had jack shit to repair the multiple chest wounds from the shot with which she'd sprayed him.

Tony scabbed his way out of the ditch, his talons pushing out in sluggish response to the small surge of survival adrenaline that remained. It was more than surviving. He had to consider Praile.

If Tony didn't continue east and slaughter every Singer in his path, the  end that Praile saw through would be worse.

Eternal.

Things never shut down in the hot place. Praile was creative in his ministrations for those who didn't tow the fucking mark.

Lying in a ditch, evacuating his guts on the side of the road, was definitely not the follow-through that would free him of his obligations.

Tony would have to kill and feed. Then he would have to get his ass over to Two and get those Singers dead.

His thoughts touched briefly on Jacqueline, now knocked up by the jellybean fey. Fucking Unseelie.

She'd been a tender morsel to dominate.

Tony growled, jerking himself out of the ditch. No use crying over spilt lust. There'd be more females to hate on. Right now, it was Praile's agenda or he’d never have another thing to toy with. It'd be endless agony.

Being a bully had its plus side, but an even bigger bully was in charge now.

Tony moved into the forest, weaker than he'd ever been.

He sighted a small herd of elk. Hunger overcame all other instincts.

He ran.

Killed.

And hungered no more.

*

Jacqueline tried not to cling, alternately loving her newfound kind streak and hating the new weakness. It seemed she could not be both.

There was a reserve in the way Domiatri treated her, as there was from the rest. Even the vampire had given pause when introductions had been made. Jacqueline understood. She'd tried to kill their blood messiah. The vampire looked at Julia Caldwell as the savior of their kind, the refresher of humanity’s precious blood load.

Before, Julia had been a target for Jacqueline to take out.

Jacqueline had been deep under the influence of withdrawal sickness. Even now, though her proximity to a fey mound had always been too distant for her to understand what it could have meant for her to be closer, she felt slightly ill.

But
she
was making it possible for Domi to exist in this realm longer than a day. He siphoned, or borrowed, from her
other
genes while she grew weaker.

They needed to return to Faerie.

Her hand went to her belly. She was suddenly afraid. Fear felt foreign to Jacqueline, accustomed to being the intimidator. Not the intimidated.

Domi took her elbow, and she startled slightly. “I do not like having you near Tony again.”

She spoke the truth, “He does not look to kill me but to kill Singers of the purest blood.”

Domi wore his disquiet like clothing, though he nodded his assent. “I will find Tharell, and he can search out the vagrant without me. I feel Faerie's call and need to protect my offspring.”

Jacqueline frowned, thinking of his wording, trying not to remember Tony's use of her. “What of Tharell lasting outside of Faerie? Won't he sicken?”

Domi gave a rough exhale, pegging his hands on strong hips. “He will, but it is not a quick thing. As a Sidhe, I cannot spend an inordinate amount of time away from the sithen. It is a kind of sustenance as well as a sentient being. It is fuel for well-being. Your presence affords more time, but it is not an indefinite thing.”

“But not for Tharell?” Jacqueline thought it odd Tharell was so terribly second-class inside of Faerie.

“No. He is not pureblooded Sidhe. He possesses enough for immortality, but it is not enough...”

“For acceptance,” Jacqueline finished.

Domi's shoulders slumped. His smooth green flesh was like grass with fresh dew and shone slightly in the deepening night. Soon he would look as the trees did in the wind, shadows of soft black that moved with the rhythm of nature.

His face fell into solemn lines. “It is not of my choosing. Tharell is a great warrior and has been a good friend. Many do not understand his composition does not make the man but his deeds.”

Jacqueline worried her teeth at her lip. “So we'll return to Faerie?”

Domi gave a sudden grin, the white of his teeth so startling in the gloom she took a step back. Something in that smile smacked of maleficence, as well as an abiding sadness shrouding him. He seemed utterly pleased to have rescued Jacqueline from her mistreatment by Tony and her evil nature was in large part a manifestation of fey sickness. Or the lack of Faerie to “feed” her.

Jacqueline understood Tony needed to be stopped. The evilness remaining inside her rejoiced at the very idea of witnessing his demise. But a greater need overtook petty concerns such as vengeance. Her child that she carried, the first one she thought of with tenderness, was counting on her to survive. For the first time in memory, it mattered to Jacqueline that something besides herself was depending on her.

Now Domiatri would confer with Tharell, and she would return to Faerie. Not to be left with her torturer but to live there while her belly swelled with Domi's child. She had been assured just how important her Singer's blood would be to the people of Faerie.

However, not a great deal more had been expounded on. It lay with her like uneasy tidings, half-told, lesser understood.

Ruling as a Singer of royal blood did not motivate her. No great reception waited for her at Region Two. Her subjects loathed her. She'd ruled with a tyrannical fist. They'd obeyed out of fear, not respect. Tony would have arrived, and the Jacqueline from before would have responded as she always had: putting her best people forward to die while she escaped.

Her face grew hot with thoughts of the past. All she could do now was go forward. Staying at the conquered Region One was out of the question. Jacqueline did not wish to face Scott when and if, he returned. Or her vampire daughter, Delilah. Jacqueline would not be welcome if she returned to Region Two.

Domi correctly stated that Faerie was her best option. He'd been too diplomatic to say it was her only option.

He scattered her thoughts as he stood beside her. “Yes”—he cupped the back of her head—“we'll go. Even if I must 'pull rank', as the humans say.”

Jacqueline nodded, and he slid his hands from her head to her shoulders. She watched him walk away in search of Tharell.

She was bereft.

Jacqueline hated these new feelings of neediness.

She turned, and half a dozen eyes fell on her like beads of hate. They burned along her skin like fire ants.

The Singers who remained would never accept her either.

Jacqueline swung around in the opposite direction so she would not feel their hate any longer and walked slowly to the Singer mansion. She would eat and find a quiet room until Domi returned. She had made amends with the Rare One; the remainder would always hate her. Jacqueline could do nothing there. However, she didn't need to be around so many that wished her ill.

Jacqueline had a new life to think of. And though Domi did not love her, he acted on her behalf and it was more than she deserved.

*

Tharell palmed the water, and Gabriel's face distorted then faded from the disturbed pool he had made with the gesture. He could not call back the things now set in motion.

He stood as Domiatri approached. Tharell grieved, and a wound seeped that would never heal.

However, he remained without choice.

“Tharell?” Domi asked, the moonlight turning his dark blue hair to silky ink in the low light. His eyes flashed silver, reflective like the wild animals of this region.

“What are you doing?” Suspicion had crept into his tone.

As well it should. The weight of old magick thickened the air, and the vibrating hum of its use could still be felt. As a full-blooded Unseelie Sidhe, Domi would sense it as though a woman had just applied perfume and left the room. The fragrance lingered.

They did not allow Tharell to use the greater ancient magicks, though he was Sidhe enough to perform them all, or allow his mating. They did not want his genes passed through.

He was not too much a mongrel that Queen Darcel hadn't wanted a taste of mixed-flesh in her bed on occasion. On many occasions.

However, Tharell had never spilled his seed in the deepest part of her. Not one drop.

He was not half-breed enough to be put anywhere but at the front lines of war. Tharell had fought and bled for Faerie but never been a part of the jeweled collective.

“Contacting the Northwestern coven,” Tharell answered carefully.

Domi thrust his chin back in surprise, and his sword cleared its sheathing. “Tharell, we are here to assist the Blooded Queen.”

Tharell felt ill for the betrayal and confusion on his friend's countenance.

Tharell shook his head sadly, his own hilt growing warm in his palm. “No, you are here for that calling. I am here to guide my brethren to Faerie.”

A beat of ominous silence held portentous weight. The kind stagnant for only a moment before it erupts and boil over a pot left too long on a stove.

Understanding filled Domi's eyes, but it was too late. Tharell dove at his friend, looking to wound fatally. He had a plan, the only one with mercy out of everything he had built thus far.

Domi's sword made a whistling sound as he threw himself backward to avoid the metal of Tharell's blade, his arms sprung wide for balance.

Tharell had feinted.

He drove the hilt into Domi's femoral artery and hauled the blade upward, severing half the leg in one go, groin to hip.

Domi did as everyone does when his or her leg is half-cut off. He fell.

Tharell grabbed that beautiful long hair and hauled the warrior to the water's edge.

Domi's lifeblood was rushing out in an arcing spray. He clawed at Tharell as he spun behind him.

Tharell clapped a hand over Domi's mouth, just as a short dagger slid between Tharell's ribs.

The pain staggered him, yet he hung onto the hair and shoved the other Sidhe into the cool lake.

Strong fingers crushed his forearms.

Blood like octopus ink pulsed in time with Domi's heartbeat and pooled around them as they struggled against each other.

Bubbles rose.

Silver eyes regarded him with a betrayal that needed no vocalization.

A thousand years lived, and Tharell had never felt his misdeeds as powerfully as he did this one.

The second slice of his blade separated Domi's head from his body.

Tharell let go of the hair he'd always admired and wished for from afar.

Domiatri's body bled as his head bobbed on a lake far from Faerie.

“Who will stay?” Julia asked. She looked at the small group then put a thumb to her chest. “It's not going to be me. Tony's out there, and we need all the man-”—she glanced at Cyn and Adi—“and woman power we can get.”

“We stop that tool and save Two,” Adi agreed.

“We Reds can stop him,” Slash said. Thirteen Reds would accompany them, including Jason. No one knew for sure if the Reds would be able to withstand whatever magic was at work on the blade Tony wielded.

Tharell was just walking up. Julia’s internal tally for the Tony hunt automatically included him, Jacqueline, and the green Sidhe.

She looked around at the clean grounds and couldn't help the memory of her people’s gore rising inside her mind. She closed her eyes against the red tide of their death, but it remained.

It was all very premeditated, the planning of Tony's murder. Though it couldn't be helped. He'd slaughtered nearly everyone in One. Julia didn't reflect on the people she'd personally lost. It must wait for later.

Thrilled to leave thoughts she couldn't dwell on behind, Julia thought of Scott and Lucius. She turned to Angela. “Do you feel anything?”

The girl shook her head.

“It's not like that. I can only
know
things if they're right here.” She brought a palm up in front of her face.

Scott.
Julia was no longer soul-bound. But she mourned his absence and worried about what the Reds might be doing to him while they stood around planning Tony’s murder. She couldn't spare their resources to save two Combatant when a hundred Singers were in jeopardy.

“So the vamps have gone ahead, and Tom Harriet is still out there with who knows how many more Reds...”

“And some important peeps are unaccounted for,” Cyn reminded her. Julia already knew. Reagan, Delilah, Manny, and Victor were only a few of the important supernaturals not dead.

They were also not there.

Julia blew out a slow breath, tired to the core. Small wisps of hair settled around her face. Eyes that had never regarded her before as someone who provided answers now looked to her.

“Okay, I think we need to get going and meet the vamps in Montana.” Julia looked at the assembled faces. “Who's rested enough to take three of our SUVs and start driving tonight?”

Three hands rose, one Truman’s.

Julia smiled. “Truman and...”

Jason squeezed her shoulder, and she pressed her face against his knuckles.

“Jason and...”

Brynn stepped forward. Julia gave a slight gasp. “What?”

The Reds circled the lone vamp.

She couldn't keep the surprise out of her voice. “Why didn't you go with the others?” She assumed he would have headed up the reconnaissance with the other four.

He narrowed his eyes at the Reds. “Back off. I mean no harm to the Rare One.”

“Right.” Jason’s body tensed around her like clinging vine.

Julia gave a short laugh. “I'm their ultimate food goddess. I think it's okay.”

Brynn smiled at her joke, and his fangs appeared. “I don't require sleep, just no sunlight.”

Of course,
Julia thought. “You sent them ahead...”

“And I will drive until dawn.”

Truman harrumphed and they turned to him. “Not bad for a bloodsucker.”

Brynn's grin widened as he gave a slight bow. “Yes.”

Then he hissed.

The Reds retreated.

Venom dripped from his fangs, the skin of his face stretched taut with his emotion. “I am not endlessly patient.” His eyes bled to cruelty, meeting  theirs for a flat endless second. “Let's go.”

Julia swallowed hard, remembering William.

She followed along with Jason.

Brynn pivoted in their direction. His eyes held humor and challenge. “For those of you who aren't afraid.”

Jason raised his middle finger. “Not of you, vampire.”

Brynn lifted his lips in a smirk, the tips of his fangs flashing and disappearing instantly. “Good.”

Jason dropped his hand but not his guard.

Cyn and Adi rode in the last SUV as the Reds, Singers, and lone vampire made their way to Montana.

Though none realized they ran nearly parallel with Tony. They presumed to chase him.

*

Tony stuffed the body of the hotel guy in the trunk of the car he'd stolen along the way.

Just humans this time, thank moon.

The owner of the shabby thing had balked at Tony's look.

Tony had laughed when he got a load of his own reflection later. He appeared to have bathed in a tub of blood then rolled in a vat of mud and walked around for a day letting it dry to a cracked, desert-like finish. There was also the issue of his holey attire. And not the religious variety. Tony thought more mottled, half-healed skin showed than clothing. The bitch’s shot had shredded his clothes and peppered his skin with badly healing pockmarks, filthy and punctured.

That's probably why the guy picked up the phone mere seconds after Tony walked through the doors to his cheesy motel lobby.

The proprietor had been a startled owl with glasses so thick his eyes appeared as big as a toad's.

Tony had jerked the receiver from his hand and ripped it out of the wall in one motion. He'd been sufficiently spooked, trying to scramble away. A burst of talons through his back slowed his momentum considerably. With a jerk and hop, Tony leapt behind the desk in full evisceration mode.

His kills were so messy. Even he could admit the fault there. It didn't bother him.

So now,
Doug
was stuffed inside the trunk of the stolen vehicle. It nearly made up for the supreme fuck-up with the surprise Alpha bitch.

A pale and fleshy arm dangled like a swinging pendulum.

Couldn't have that.
Tony casually swiped it back inside the cramped space.

He whistled, making his way back into the lobby and hit the No Vacancy sign. That accomplished, he tore the keys to the front door off a loose nail.

The nail skittered across the old linoleum floor as Tony spied a vending machine filled with pastries.

Perfect.
Sugar was always a ready solution to faster healing.

He strolled to the machine and, using a discarded shirt—Doug had most recently lost the need of it—blasted a hole through the glass with said shirt wrapped around his knuckles. Glass shards clinked like frozen rain on the battered floor.

Pastries of every variety poured out at a trickle that became a geyser. Tony scooped up an armful and went to the first available room.

After eating ten slightly stale delicacies, he cut his gore-soaked clothes away and took a scalding shower.

He padded naked to the middle of the room and decided he'd need new threads.

He twirled the master keys on his finger, counting twenty-two rooms.

Someone would be a close fit for clothing. Time to shop.

*

Jacqueline grabbed Tharell's arm, stone beneath her grip. “You say Domiatri elected to return to Faerie and you would go on alone?”

Tharell nodded.

A frown puckered her face. It was beyond odd. Domi had made it clear he would discuss their early return to Faerie with Tharell. That Tharell would go on—without them. Jacqueline relayed this.

His eyes became hooded. “We do not have time to discuss the details. The Blooded Queen and half the Reds have already gone for Two—your old headquarters,” Tharell reminded her unnecessarily. It stung. He held the door open to the large car, sweeping a dark purple hand at the empty space. His palm was light lavender.

She suddenly felt like crying. Her newfound emotional well was terrible, exhilarating, and ultimately exhausting.

Tharell continued, “It is I who should have qualms about re-entering this horrible transport of metal. You will be safe. Domi prepares a place for you and his unborn child in Faerie even as we speak.”

Jacqueline hesitated while Tharell calmly waited by the door. He made it sound so logical. However, her old nature struggled to the surface.
Something did not feel right
. Jacqueline rolled her lower lip between her teeth.

Tharell's grip on the car door, so tight that his normally purple-hued skin looked whitish-lavender in the harsh porch light, gave her further pause.

Jacqueline did not like it. She took a final scan of the surrounding fields that bled into the woods. Finally, her gaze fell on the lake.

The last place she'd seen Domiatri.

With a sigh, Jacqueline hiked up into the offered seat. The Reds squished inside lifted their lips in a show of distaste to sharing a vehicle with a known traitor.

Jacqueline turned from their accusation, looking out the window as the vehicle pulled away. She had never felt more alone. Before, Jacqueline had only herself, and it had been enough, solidarity with only her. She'd not been self-aware enough to notice. Now she was hyper-aware of her place in this world.

It was lowly.

Tharell sat in the front seat as Brynn began to drive.

He gave her a look she thought meant a show of support. Instead, it deepened her feelings of disquiet.

His next words made it worse. “I shall take care of you until you meet with Domi once again.”

Jacqueline did not respond, looking at the passing scenescape. Her eyes once again sought the black lake where she had last seen Domiatri as it disappeared from view.

Domi, why did you go and not even say goodbye?

Domi apparently had not felt he owed her even that.

Yet, she had wanted it.

Jacqueline put a palm to the glass as though she could touch the warrior who had not given her the word of closure she needed most.

Her forehead stayed against the glass until the last Red fell asleep.

Sleep never came for her.