Silence of the Wolves (27 page)

She coughed the bile out, not able to hold it in any longer, gasping for air, as cold sweat dampened her body. She started shaking as the gagging subsided, fear wrapping around her. She shook it off, telling herself to get a grip as she wiped at her forehead and eyed her surroundings.

She was literally in a cave. There was no other way to describe it. The jagged rock curved around her, the dark space seemingly closing in on her. It was lit by the flickering flames of paraffin torches that hung off the rock walls at various points, but the dim light wasn’t much to go by. As she let her eyes adjust properly, she realised that there were various tunnels leading from the space she was in.

Tam decided that she’d had enough of tunnels, she’d been trapped in far too many of late. When this was all over, she was going to find herself a nice open-plan apartment, maybe even a house that wouldn’t contain a single godforsaken hallway.

She smiled at the thought of future normality; the prospect seemed unlikely given her situation, but Christ was it something to hope for.

Thankfully the shaking had subsided, and she could finally breathe again. Gingerly fingering her torn throat, she found it was deeply gouged, but thankfully he hadn’t hit anything vital. He’d missed her jugular by mere millimetres. She tore a section of the vampire’s T-shirt and tied the thing tightly around her neck; it constricted her breathing a little, but at least it would slow the bleeding. His scent filled her nostrils, making her gag. But as her blood soaked through the material, it was replaced by her own coppery scent and for that, she was truly grateful.

She inhaled deeply, picking past her bloody scent and that of the vamp, the thick dust and mould, until she found what she was looking for. Leyth.

Leyth groaned, his voice hoarse from screaming. Peeling his swollen lids open, he tried to make sense of where he was. The room was dark; the musky scent of age and mould filled the air. Heat was still roaring through his skin, the silver they’d injected into him still coursing through his veins. His entire left arm had no feeling to it, and his shoulder was throbbing; pain rippling its way slowly towards his chest.

The stuff was rapidly nearing his heart. Silver burnt like a bastard, he would likely lose his arm at this rate, but that was nothing compared to the impending danger; if it hit his heart the organ would fail almost instantly, killing him on the spot. Fear hit him hard, but he shoved it aside. His death was coming and there wasn’t much he could do about that but go down fighting.

As his eyes slowly took in the area, he realised he wasn’t so much in a room as he was a cave; the rugged natural stone curved around him, cooling his skin. He was tied down to a slab in the middle of the room. Light from paraffin torches flickered around him, letting him see just enough to make out that magi surrounded him.

‘
Ah, you have woken. That surprises me
,’ the High Lord drawled.

Leyth cracked his head around to the spindly, pale man. His face looked even more gaunt in this light, the flame casting deep shadows over his bony face.

‘Fuck you,’ Leyth spat, eyeing the five of them with disgust.

The three directly behind the High Lord looked absolutely shocked at his curse; the fourth, the thane, who was bent over a large bowl, stirring some sort of gloop together, grinned slightly.

‘
No matter your curses, your death is imminent, wolf. I suggest you don’t try to fight me.
’

Leyth did fight though; he struggled against the leather straps with all his might, trying desperately to free himself. His left arm wouldn’t budge for love or money, his right arm, however, fought the bind, straining the material, making it cut deeply into his wrist, blood flowing freely over his hand.

‘
It’s useless to fight us.
’ The magi stalked closer still, bringing a silver knife up in front of him. In one swift movement, the knife was plunged into Leyth’s arm and dragged downward. Pain hit him, thundering its way through his body. His skin hissed and burnt as the silver penetrated it and yet more blood flowed free, cascading onto the stone slab and dripping onto the floor.

The High Lord smiled; cold, evil lips parting to reveal fangs.

‘You’re a vampire?’ Leyth choked,

‘
Yes. How do you think I became so powerful? I can give the gift of eternity.
’

‘So that’s how you make your minions agree to sacrifice their soul. You give them your blood, so they can live for ever?’

‘
And, in return, they allow me to bind their soul and use their body as a vessel to do my bidding. Yes.
’

‘That’s sick. How can someone live for ever when their body rots without their soul?’

‘
They can’t.
’ It was a simple answer that spoke of horrid deception and the promise of something that can’t be delivered.

A vampire was born, not made, and yes they had the infinite joy of a life that couldn’t end by any natural means, but this couldn’t be exploited.

Leyth had heard of a ritual that vampires could use to turn humans and other races into vampire kin, but it was dangerous, and if the body rejected it, it could kill the person they were trying to change.

It was only ever used in extreme cases, usually for love. Not to build an army.

That must be why the vampire-magi-whatever was so frail, giving his blood to every tomb he made.

‘Tell me this then,’ Leyth uttered. ‘Why bind their souls?’

‘
Those with a strong soul can fight possession easily, those who have their soul bound to us cannot fight it.
’ The High Lord moved closer still, drawing the knife out of Leyth’s arm and bracing a hand on the stone slab he was strapped to.

‘
Don’t worry, wolf, you shall join your tuhrned kin soon,
’ he whispered as he slowly bent down and latched his thin, cold lips around the knife wound, briefly drawing Leyth’s blood into his mouth.

As he drank it in, Leyth watched him visibly strengthen, his shoulders slowly straighten, his skin turn a lighter shade of grey.

Leyth shouted in rage and shook himself free of the magi’s lips, biting back the bile that rose.

‘You will never turn me, you sick bastard,’ Leyth spat.

‘
Oh, but I shall. I’ve turned most on the Council already. We are close to taking over the Kingdom, wolf. Once we’ve turned you, we will have one we can control in the south-east pack, and an easy way to find your little friend. Tamriel will come to you.
’

Leyth roared at the mention of his female’s name. He would not let them find her, even if it killed him. Though his shoulder screamed in protest, he ripped himself forward, the blood gushing from his wrist slicking his hand enough for it to slip free of the leather bind. He didn’t hesitate; he threw his fist forward, smashing the magi in the face.

The bastard staggered backward, losing his footing on the hard rock floor and fell backwards, snapping fragile bone as he hit the dirt.

Letting out an ear-splitting scream, Leyth could only gape as the High Lord literally flew forward, sinking his fangs into his arm, sucking everything he had left. As it took great pulls at his life source, he watched the broken leg heal itself, watched as his pale, gaunt skin thickened, becoming healthier by the second.

Leyth thrashed around frantically, trying to dislodge the bastard, but it didn’t work; his toothy mouth was well and truly attached to Leyth’s only good arm. Roaring in pain, Leyth ripped his arm away from the High Lord, snapping both fangs as he pulled away. The vamp-magi hissed, clapping a still bony hand over his mouth.

The High Lord’s right-hand man strode forward, wrapping an arm around his waist and dragging him backwards. Leyth felt that spark of recognition hit him again. It wasn’t just recognition from the meeting at Julian’s, it was something far deeper; he knew this man.

He didn’t recognise his features and his face didn’t actually seem to fit with his voice, his being as it were. But, god be damned, Leyth just could not figure out why he knew this man so well. Why those eyes of his sparked gratitude and the feeling of almost pack-kin closeness.

Though the thane was barking orders at the other three magi to get moving, Leyth was absolutely sure he caught the male grinning.

It was only then did he truly notice how completely different the thane was to the rest of the magi; each one of them was gaunt and grey-looking, the thane, on the other hand, was very much a picture of health. His golden skin was glowing, muscles bulging through his robe.

It hadn’t struck Leyth as odd before, now however it made him re-think the purpose of this magi. He clearly hadn’t given himself over to the allure of eternal life. He wasn’t bound, as the other magi appeared to be.

As Leyth watched him, their eyes met for a split second, and he could have sworn the thane winked at him as he hefted the High Lord onto a stone chair at the foot of the slab Leyth was strapped to.

‘
Start the ritual,
’ the vamp-magi spluttered, casting a bony finger at the thane. All the magi rushed to their stations, lighting various candles around the room, sprinkling what looked like salt and herbs over the floor and chanting manic words in a language Leyth couldn’t understand.

Agony hit him in the chest with the force of a hammer. The silver in his veins had sped up its course, the pain burning his shoulder rippled its way across his collarbone, sinking towards his chest. The roaring pain made his ears ring and his skin burn.

Tears and blood were streaming down his face. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t open his eyes. Didn’t dare move.

This was it. Here and now. He was going to die.

Leyth’s distinctive scent hit her nose in a second. She couldn’t help the grin that practically split her face in half as she recognised the scent. She noticed the various tunnels leading out of the cave-like space she was in. Tam was deadly sure that the vampire hadn’t been the only one down here. Logic suggested she should pick one route and stick to it, but her curiosity was piqued, making her want to check each and every tunnel out, picking those bastard tombs off one by one.

Hatred fuelled her, anger heating her blood.

Bloodlust roared to the surface, making her canines lengthen and the wolf at her core roar to the surface. She sternly told the animal to put a cap on it.

Heat rushed from her core, her wolf telling her she wanted in on this violence. The heat was quickly chased away as a roaring pain rolled through her, making her fall to the floor in a heap, barely containing a scream.

It was Leyth. What the hell were they doing to him? The searing pain seemed to be coming from her arm, but quickly spreading throughout her shoulder towards her heart. Her wolf soul howled, and retreated quickly. It must be silver. Shit, shit, shit.

The pain roaring its way through her temporarily immobilised her; she couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. It was all she could do to remain conscious. And, Christ, this was only an echo of what Leyth must be feeling.

Tears rolled freely down her face, but Tamriel shoved the pain aside, focusing instead on the determination heating her veins. As her male’s scent hit her again, and a renewed sense of urgency ripped through her, Tam pulled her phone out to call the others.

She would no doubt need help here; she needed Doc and the djinn and, hell, she was going to need minotaurs too. She needed to let them know where she was. No signal. Goddamn mobiles were useless.

Sternly telling herself to get a grip, and shoving the pain she was feeling away, stuffing it in a proverbial box at the back of her mind she followed her nose. She crept to the tunnel on the far left, listening intently. There were no sounds coming from it, which was no surprise; if anyone had heard her struggle with the vamp, they surely would have come running by now. She tugged the darkness around herself, and moved forward. The tunnel was dark, the only light coming from the flickering torches. As it began to widen, the metallic scent of blood overrode her senses and she saw that carved deep in the walls of the cave were cells barred with thick metal. It looked like a large dungeon.

Most of the barred holdings were empty but for a corpse or two; she cast them a quick glance, hoping like hell one of them might be alive, but no such luck. Finally her nose led her to a cell with an open door. Leyth’s scent was all over it. Gulping down bile, she slowly came to the door of the cage. It was completely empty.

Sadness gripped her as tears rose to the surface, threatening to spill. Like it would be this easy.

She scanned the empty space. There was blood. Everywhere. It lined the walls and pooled on the floor. There was just so much of it here. She crouched down as tears stung her eyes and dipped her fingers into the wet pool, sniffing it.

It was Leyth’s, without a doubt. The tears came again, this time running down her cheeks. There was too much blood here, far too much. What had they done to him? He surely couldn’t survive this.

She knelt down, not caring that her jeans were soaking the stuff up like a sponge, and reached to the dull roar in her chest; by the constant ache she knew without a doubt that it was Leyth.

The pain she’d felt but moments ago had died down, to a slight pulse of pain. It was so weak now, so distant. Was he dead already? Was this pain a manifestation of her own hope? Was she keeping the memory of him alive when he really was no more? Sobbing freely yet still quietly, she gripped the wall with her hand and gave herself over to grief, if only for a moment.

The ache in her chest flared to life, her shoulder began to ripple with pain and her left arm tingled.

Was it him? Surely it had to be. As the dull thudding pain ran across her chest, she staggered to her feet, fresh hope coming to the surface. She could feel him dying. Unrelenting fear rode her hard, but she didn’t give into it. He was alive for the moment. She just needed to find him.

Battling to keep the pain at bay, she drew his bolo from her jeans and staggered forward. Keeping her eyes ahead of her, she followed the length of the dungeon. She didn’t bother checking the other cells. She knew anything that might be in them would be dead.

As she crept forward, a whisper hit her ears.

She stopped, listening intently.

Someone was up ahead.

She moved slowly forward, straining her ears. Two heartbeats.

Though it was dark, she could make out the wall at the end of the dungeon; it held a heavy, barred door. That wasn’t where the two heartbeats were coming from however; they were coming from the cell on the right.

Tam tightened her grip on the darkness cloaking her, and silently moved towards the cell.

It could be prisoners. She wasn’t going to chance that though. As she reached the edge of the small, carved-out space, she held her breath and silently peeked around the edge.

Two women were sat on chairs, feet up on the table in the middle. One of them appeared to be sleeping; the other was reading a magazine. Neither knew she was there.

The door was propped open with a stone that had obviously come loose from the wall somewhere. Tam couldn’t help the irrational stab of jealousy that came with the women spending time in a dungeon with her lover. Her male. They best not have touched him.

She knew she was a decent fighter and, yes, she had been well trained by her father. But she wasn’t going to chance being overpowered by two of them when she didn’t necessarily have to be.

She palmed one of the knives strapped to her belt, and carefully weighed up her options. The brunette reading the magazine was the obvious target; she was awake and would react faster than the shaven-haired sleeping girl.

If she took the conscious girl out first, it would take longer for lady-sleep-a-lot to wake up and realise what was going on, giving Tamriel more time to attack. Having said that, brunette was much smaller and skinnier than shaven; her arms were bony where shaved’s were bulging with muscle, her hands dainty where the other’s were thick and calloused.