Hunted By The Others (31 page)

After a moment, the pain faded enough for me to stop screaming, and I lay there, panting and staring but not exactly seeing what was across the room from me. Except that something was wrong. Different. Quiet, except for my pained whimpers and a faint, angry chitter from Bob, who had somehow managed to cling to my jacket throughout all the fighting. I had just enough of my senses left to know it shouldn’t be this quiet.

Every one of the Weres in the room had stopped fighting. They were shaking their heads a little, some clutching at their ears, looking around in confusion and fright.

“Give it back to me! Now!” David screamed, his hands in tight fists at his sides. Somehow, while I’d been distracted by burning into a crispy critter, he’d found his balance and managed to stand. “Give it to me before I kill you!”

“I think not,” came Royce’s smooth, angry voice from somewhere I couldn’t quite see. My vision was too blurred, even without the weird haze of energy surrounding everyone in the room but Sara and me. I still tried to look, though just the simple act of turning my head made it feel like skin was being peeled off my neck and shoulder in the process. It took everything I had not to cry out in pain again.

Royce was holding Anastasia by the throat. He held her up and slightly to one side as easily as a child might hold a balloon, despite her nails clawing at his arm, making tatters of his shirt. She was snapping her fangs at him, her twisting body as sinuous and unnatural as a snake’s. It looked for all the world like it took him no effort to casually heft her off the ground. Her feet were fourteen inches off the floor and even from here it looked like his fingers would leave permanent indentations in the skin of her neck.

David took a wobbling hop-step toward me, the fingers of one hand extended in my direction while the other arm was flung sideways for balance. His voice was urgent now, afraid. Not like before. “Give it to me,
now
, or we’re all dead. They’ll kill you, too, if they aren’t controlled!”

Royce laughed, amused even as he was crushing the windpipe of the woman in his grasp. Her mouth was opening and closing like she was trying to scream. “No, my friend. She’s not yours. Not one of your puppets.”

A low, steady growling was building up. Not from Royce. From the Weres in the room. I could
feel
their attention swinging to David, knowing him for the cause of their fear, tasting his own on the air like a fine wine. He smelled like food, and in that moment, I knew, knew without a doubt, what his flesh and blood would taste like. I could almost taste the salty sweetness of blood on my tongue. I hoped to God that whichever Were I picked that stray thought from wouldn’t become more solid in my consciousness. I didn’t want to know who it was, his name or profession. Who he had killed.

“We’ll kill you, but she’ll be left alone.”

“No!” David screamed, and I flinched as that green light started to form at his fingertips again.

Royce threw Anastasia like a rag doll, a casual gesture, and I winced in sympathy at the sound of the impact, the unmistakable crunch of breaking bone. I watched helplessly as the two lovers flew across the room, sliding in the Were blood spattered on the floor to stop in the midst of the werewolves. Immediately the beasts started to circle, closer, closer, and I closed my eyes as the mingling horrified screams of the vampire and sorcerer became frantic, animal, panicked. I managed to catch only a brief glimpse of their panicked faces as they clutched at each other when the Weres moved as one, converging on the two like a living carpet of fur, teeth, and claws.

The screams didn’t last long. But by all that is holy, those sounds, the shrill wavering cries cutting off so abruptly, the sounds of cracking and ripping like wet cloth being torn apart, were going to haunt me in my nightmares. If I got out of this alive tonight.

I turned away, not wanting to see the roiling, furred bodies converging on whatever was left of Anastasia and David. The thick cracks and sounds of flesh tearing made me want to throw up, but I hadn’t eaten anything in hours. Dry heaves made something grind low in my chest, and I had to fight the encroaching blackness in my vision as my mind tried to turn off the pain and horrors around me and just pass out.

That’s when Royce came toward me. I also noticed Chaz, out of the corner of my eye, bleeding from numerous wounds but alive and stalking in my direction. And lo and behold, there was Arnold standing by the door, horrorstruck and unable to come closer due to the three dozen frenzied, feeding Weres between him and us.

Sara stepped between us and lifted the gun, shifting her stance so she could keep both the vampire and the Were in sight. They both froze. “You okay, Shia?”

I tried to answer. Bad move, trying to breathe. After a brief fit of extremely painful coughing, I managed to choke out an answer. “I’ve been better.”

She gave a faint laugh, forced, shifting her weight uncomfortably as Royce sidled another step closer. “You got any bright ideas on how to get out of here?”

Oh great. Sara asking me for ideas. Royce called out, his voice that same, melodic tone I remembered, just as friendly and smooth as it had been while he told David he was dogmeat. “I can escort you out. Just give me the focus, and I’ll get the Weres out of here.”

Chaz answered those words with an abrupt, angry growl, hackles rising and bloodstained teeth snapping at him in a truly frightening display. Royce didn’t even flinch.

I wanted to say something witty. It hurt too much to talk, so I just settled on shaking my head. Bob made a small sound in my ear that seemed like a warning, though against what I had no idea. Both of the Others came closer still, Sara’s voice shaking as she looked back over her shoulder at me for direction. “Shia…”

Enough was enough. This stupid focus was the cause of enough pain and misery to last several lifetimes. Thanks to this thing, two magi, a vampire, and a sorcerer were dead. Who knew how many Others or how many people had been killed due to David’s handiwork, or what he’d had to do to get the power and knowledge to make it. If Royce got his hands on it, he’d use it to get the Weres out of here, all right. But then he’d use them, just like David had. If Chaz took it, he would take over the Moonwalker tribe, maybe others, and control his own pack on an entirely new level. I couldn’t let Arnold have it, or he’d use it, too, manipulating everyone—maybe even Chaz this time—just like David had.

“Are you still with me?” I whispered, coughing slightly again and doing my best to keep my eyes open so I could keep an eye on Royce, Chaz, and Arnold. Sara was a good shot, but she wouldn’t be able to stop them all in time.

The belt answered me, just as I’d hoped. Faint, but it was there.
Still here. You’re bleeding internally—I can’t do much more than slow it down. It’s tough keeping you humans alive.

I almost laughed, but the slight hitch of muscles in my chest and more of that grinding feeling, pressure and pain on one of my lungs, were deterrent enough. “Just a little longer,” I promised it, twisting from my back onto my side, panting as I clutched the focus to my chest. It wasn’t a lack of strength. It was the pain of my broken ribs and the sensation like my skin had charred, even though what I could see looked perfectly healthy, if a little pale. The pain of that spell David lobbed at me was all in my head, I guess. Didn’t make it hurt any less.

Royce inched forward again, Chaz hesitantly following in his footsteps. “What are you doing?”

Sara backed up another step closer to me and lifted the gun, firing a warning shot into the ceiling. Glass tinkled and plaster rained down between her and the Others. The two froze, the other Weres lifting their heads from their “meal” and turning toward us, ears pricked in alarm or curiosity. They were behind me, but I could “feel” them looking, the same way I knew Mark Roberts had been bleeding and afraid. Just like I could feel a mixed sense of hunger, elation, and fear from Royce. Funny to think that he was afraid. Funnier still that his fear was of me.

I coughed again and spat out a bit of blood, taking a few shallow breaths to compose myself before I looked up at the vampire and gave him his answer. “What needs to be done.”

With that, I focused every last ounce of energy I could muster, doing what I could to pull more force with the help of the belt, lifting the focus as fast and high as I could then smashing it into the hardwood floor.

The last thing I knew before the world turned black around me was an intense backwash of energy from the bits of stone crumbling under my hand, throwing me back toward the gathered Weres to the sound of Sara’s screams.

Chapter 46

I woke up. Which was both a pleasant and an unpleasant shock all on its own.

The low droning beeps, bluish-white curtain around the bed, and tubes strapped to my arms, nose, and chest told me more than the fuzzy, dreamlike quality of my thoughts and vision that I was in a hospital. Every part of me ached abominably, but it was distant, like I was feeling everything through a curtain of cloth gauze.

I tried thinking back on what happened, how I got here. No such luck. The last thing I remembered was breaking the focus and passing out. Everything after that was just…empty. Blank.

Blinking my eyes to clear my vision, I turned my head to the side and found it in me somewhere to dredge up a smile at the sight of Sara seated at my bedside, her eyes closed as she leaned against the metal rail, head pillowed on her arm. She must have fallen asleep waiting for me to wake up. It was good to see she was alive and, aside from a bandage I could see winding around her other arm, unharmed.

“You’re awake,” came a surprised voice from behind the curtain. Chaz carefully brushed it aside, sidling around it to stand on the other side of the bed.

I nodded and tried to smile, my voice coming out no stronger than a faint whisper. “For what it’s worth, yeah.”

He smiled back at me, gently taking my right hand in both of his own. The left was tightly bandaged up and I could only see the tips of my fingers. Must’ve done more damage to it than I’d thought when I destroyed the focus. I lifted the bandaged hand to examine it, took a deep breath to sigh, then decided that was a bad idea and immediately expelled it.

“How long have I been out?”

“Your family was here. Visiting hours ended twenty minutes ago, but we snuck back in.” Chaz said, not meeting my gaze. I stared hard at him until he finally capitulated, squirming like a kid caught playing hooky. The doctors probably told him he shouldn’t tell me anything about the injuries to keep me from being worried. “We were all here yesterday, and the day before, too. You’ve been out for four days.” So much for that.

I closed my eyes, fighting back the sudden sting of tears. We won. We came out alive, on top. Chaz was apparently okay. There wasn’t even the hint of a scar to show where he’d been bitten or scratched during all that fighting. Chaz took the tears the wrong way, concern making his face fall as he reached up one hand to gently brush his fingers over my cheek. “Don’t cry, please don’t. Everything’s okay now, the focus is gone and so is the holder.”

I couldn’t help it. Despite the pain it caused, the tightness in my chest, I started laughing. The soft, wheezy quality and the sharp pain made it hard to keep it up, but I did it anyway. Chaz looked shocked, even as I covered his fingers on my cheek with my bandaged hand. Tears spilling down, I laughed, and it felt good. Apparently it was enough to jar Sara, who lifted her head and blinked blearily at me before her eyes widened.

“We’re alive. We won.”

“You did. I owe you for that,” came a new, unfamiliar voice, deep and rough with the hint of a smoker’s husk behind the twang of a New Jersey accent. A man I didn’t recognize was hanging back by the curtain. Chaz glanced over his shoulder, a wary look, but Sara didn’t seem afraid.

He came forward to stand near the foot of the bed, keeping some distance between himself and Chaz while still keeping me from having to strain my neck to see him. He was tall, half a head taller than Chaz, with short black hair that had a touch of white threading through here and there, warm brown eyes showing little laugh lines at the corners, and skin burned dark by years in the sun. He wore jeans and a white T-shirt, along with a long-sleeved flannel shirt to cover his lean, muscled arms, and had a touch of stubble on his strong jaw. He looked like a forty-something construction foreman, and had the same air of casual strength, command, and lingering musk scent as Chaz did.

“The Moonwalker tribe owes you, girl. You saved them, me, from a nasty fate.”

“You’re Rohrik Donovan?” I asked after a moment, having to concentrate harder than expected to dredge the name up, absently wiping the tears off my cheeks. Man, whatever the doc had me pumped up on was making me slow.

He nodded and exchanged a look with Chaz, who didn’t seem all that pleased that he was here. “I just came by to see how you were doing. Also, to let you know that you can call on any of the Moonwalkers when you’re in need. We’ll help you any way we can.”

“Thanks,” I said, though as much as I meant it, I was praying I would never be desperate enough to turn to a pack of werewolves for help again.

“I’m…uhh…I’m sorry about hitting you. Back there. The pack has taken up a collection to help defray any medical bills,” he said, his gaze creeping off me to stare at the ceiling. My, was that a touch of red in his cheeks? He was embarrassed for hurting me. So much for being the Big Bad Wolf.