Waking Up Dead (The Western Werewolf Legend #1) (2 page)

Ty turned back to Sonja and gathered
her close, nuzzling her ear and whispering, “I’ll be back as soon
as I can.” He held her tight for a moment more before stepping
back.

Immediately, the air chilled and
Sonja’s chest constricted for a second. Forcing her face to remain
calm, she watched them go. Nothing had prepared her for the empty
hole in her chest where her heart had been moments before. She
wheeled and raced back inside to the bedroom.

Wrenching open the armoire, she shoved
back the boxes at the base of the massive cabinet. She’d placed
Ty’s gun under her most personal of clothing, her camisoles and
lingerie, only weeks before. The move was executed with an eye to
the future and providing protection in the face of danger. After
all, only a fourth night had passed since she’d brought him home to
tend. The lieutenant hadn’t regained consciousness yet, and without
knowledge of why he’d been in the swamp to begin with, she
considered hiding the gun the only prudent thing to do. One never
knew when the weapon would be needed or against whom. Guarded
toward anyone she didn’t know, the way Sonja had remained alive for
the past three years had been by relying on her wits to protect
her. She cared little for which side a man’s loyalty lay with –
preservation had been her main goal since the death of her
husband.

“
I reloaded the revolver
with six wooden bullets and put it right here.” Puffs of Sonja’s
breath drifted before evaporating in the room. Tapping the bottom
of the armoire, she frowned. The fact she’d never had the chance to
wear any of the lacey, alluring garments for Tyler after they’d
become lovers briefly pricked her womanly conscious. Shoving such
nonsense aside in light of the situation, she found frustration
bubbling as she gazed deeper into the armoire’s base one more time.
“Where is the damn gun?” Growing more vexed by the second, Sonja
vowed she would annihilate each Yankee vampire as soon as the
bloodsuckers arrived. “Now where was that gun?”

Ty’s words filtered back through
Sonja’s memory as she stood there in front of her armoire staring
at the jumbled contents. When she’d asked him why he had to go,
he’d gathered her close in the very bedroom where she now stood and
offered her his patented grin, which could melt her heart in a snow
storm. Now, as she stood going over the words he’d used to placate
her, Sonja had to gather her hands together, less she haul off and
hit something.

“
Tyler Loflin!” Uttering
his name brought her back quickly. The anxious truth was she
couldn’t understand why he’d left her at this particular time to
search for Rebels held in a prisoner of war camp. She knew the
situation was of dire concern to him. He’d been with those men for
almost five years. Some ancient wisdom told her he wouldn’t abandon
her, yet he had to try and save them. Immediate guilt washed over
her. Hortence’s words came to her. “A mortal’s feelings hold little
consequence in the overall safety of the world.”

Reminded of the danger Ty faced, she
stamped her foot on the icy floor. A low growl left her lips
unbidden. She recognized the signs. Since her attack, her composure
frayed easily, her desire for her mate was more primal and her
senses had evolved into tools of acute awareness. Receiving the
‘gift’ as Hortence liked to call the change had been both a curse
and a miracle.

Under her feet, the boards
of the bedroom vibrated and Sonja sensed the danger headed her
way.
The Yankees were coming!
She closed her eyes, wishing the tremor was
something else. In her mind’s eye, horse hoofs pounded the ground
in resounding reverberation. Yankee troops on dispatch from
Spotsylvania with her old enemy, Perkins in the lead. Her keen
sense of hearing, also given to her as part of the gift, picked up
the Yankees’ movement, though the dispatch was still miles away.
She would face the enemy alone and the knowledge made her heart
rise into her throat.
You have to gather
your wits, woman!
There’s no one here to
help you now. The sigh she emitted came out in a puff of smoke on
the cool morning air. Alone again…

Sonja’s frown held agitation. Vampires
shouldn’t move during the daylight hours, but ironically, a heavy
fog had rolled in with the breaking of dawn, making for an overcast
sky. Thanks to the fog, if she wanted to challenge her adversary,
she too, would be limited to the shadows of the trees. Drawing the
bloodsuckers into the deadly light would test her newly honed
Wolfen skills. Not a small task for one so recently reborn a
werewolf.

Several dozen horses moved, in unison,
down the road. In her mind’s eye, Sonja recognized the cut-throat
scum – Major Perkins clearly. Two by two they rode, their horses’
hooves striking the hard packed clay of the main road. By all
accounts, Perkins intended to intimidate her with their sheer
numbers. Having already faced him once and sure she’d ripped the
life from him, Sonja was mildly annoyed to find him hale and hardy
as he headed her way. The bloody bastard simply wouldn’t die!
Arrogant ass, he proved a thorn in her side even now. Perkins
needed a stake through the heart as the witch, Hortence, had
suggested.

Futilely, she wished for Ty once more.
He would’ve understood Perkins’ plan of attack. Sonja managed a
smile as she lifted her chin. Tyler Loflin could hold his own
against these bloody bastards. They’d turned into blue-bellied
traitors to the Union. Being vampires hadn’t diminished their
military tactical skills one iota. No, in fact, they still thirsted
for victory in the form of blood. Only, this time, the blood was
hers and hers alone. A small reminder of the gift’s power rippled
through her. With a frozen smile, Sonja remembered the
responsibility she bore as a tingling began to burn along her neck.
Tiny hairs bristled as she listened to the hoofs pounding the dirt.
The ever-present wolf inside Sonja surged forth. A sneer broke and
played out on her lips as she emitted one low growl. Seconds passed
before she swiped absently at the beads of perspiration along her
temple. A line of perspiration trickled down the valley between her
breasts as she fought to control the blood lust rising in her
veins. Tamping the call of the wolf down, Sonja willed the beast to
calm. She’d gain nothing if she let frustration ride rough shod
over common sense. Instead, Sonja breathed deeply and drew strength
from the task at hand. Her eyes gleamed gold in the meager light as
she caught sight of her reflection in the bedroom’s small mirror.
When the wolf was upon her, the surge of anger she battled proved
an obstacle instead of an asset. To her favor, the keen vision
provided by being a werewolf didn’t miss a thing. Danger rode the
morning’s breeze.

Only minutes remained before Perkins’
men arrived at her doorstep. Before panic shredded what was left of
her composure, she took a deep breath as she fingered the medallion
around her neck.

Tyler had given her the medallion on
the eve of his court martial. The deserter charges against him were
false. To prove such would put both their lives in jeopardy though.
The truth behind his disappearance from his confederate detail had
nothing to do with desertion and everything to do with love.
Therefore, such knowledge needed to remain between the two of them.
Because if the Vampires found out Sonja had used an unorthodox
elixir – her blood – the blood of werewolf legend to heal Tyler,
they were all in grave danger. Her blood was something the Yankee
vampires would love to get their hands.

When the Rebels had charged him with
desertion and attempted to court martial her lover, Sonja had saved
him once more using yet another part of her gift – the ability to
shift into a werewolf. She’d surprised the Confederates, including
Major General, Jeb Stewart with a valiant daytime rescue of her
handsome lieutenant. Smiling to herself, Sonja remembered the
feeling of being clad in only her skin and fur.

Sonja clutched the medallion in her
hand and remembered Ty had promised her they’d leave as soon as he
found his missing men, those captured by the Yankee vampires.
Hoping he had found them quickly, she remembered Hortence speaking
of her gift, explaining she was the start, the beginning of a new
world order, the order of the Western Werewolf. At the time, Sonja
cared little for this information, being preoccupied as she was
with surviving.

She glanced out the window as the
vibration of horse hooves grew stronger. “Damn you, Ty. Why’d you
have to leave me like this?” she asked the empty bedroom. A small
footstool garnered her abuse as Sonja kicked out. One tear trickled
down her face. She glanced down the road to actually see Perkins
troop growing ever closer. Her heart stopped for a
second.

Turning from the window, Sonja rushed
about gathering the oil lamps scattered about the cabin. Since the
lamps contained coal oil, they were highly combustible and would
serve the purpose she had in mind. Hopefully, Hortence’s spell
would last long enough. Sonja shook her head when her thoughts
strayed to the old witch. The woman came and went as she pleased.
Without information like, how long one of her spells would protect
Sonja and her small cottage, Hortence had simply vanished into thin
air earlier the same morning, leaving Sonja alone. Perhaps the
entire thing was a test. Yes, Sonja mused as she doused the walls
with coal oil. A test to prove her worth, she mused. Well, by the
Gods, she’d show them!

Though irritated at the old hag’s
behavior, she had to admit, she would’ve been hard pressed to fight
vampires effectively without concern over the old woman’s safety
had she remained. It was best she was gone.

The concern over what she might do
when she shifted into the wolf always plagued her. Never sure if
she harmed an innocent or did something she would regret, while in
the Lycan state, she would always come back to herself and seek out
any and all to make sure of their well-being.

Despite the danger, the one thing
Sonja never concerned herself with was her prowess as a killer. Her
skill would protect her from harm. Once the wolf was upon her, she
relied on her sense of right and wrong in destroying her
enemies.

Sonja stepped to her front door and
glanced east and west. One way in and one way out for everyone
involved in their little get-together. The swamp formed her
property line to the west while the hills of Spotsylvania flanked
her land to the east. If she chose the path to town, she would
blend and move undeterred among the humans. Yet, she couldn’t
expose them to the vampires. “Among the humans…” The words sounded
strange to her tongue. When had she made the delineation between
herself and those she’d lived with all her life?

The answer came in clipped notes of
warning - when she’d acquired ‘the gift’. Her subconscious always
seemed ready with a comeback these days.

Tilting her head toward the breeze,
she sniffed, testing the air around her. The smell of death grew
stronger. The stench always heralded the vampires' arrival. Soon,
she’d face those who coveted the blood flowing through her veins –
the blood of legend – the blood, which held the future for her
kind. Werewolves would survive because of her, or so she’d been
told. Hortence had emphasized the fact time and again, always
instructing her in the ways of the wolf. Again reminded of her
responsibility, the one she, Sonja Brooks faced on a daily basis,
the she-wolf squared her shoulders. So if she was the future, gun
or no gun with wooden bullets or not, she would dominate the day,
rise to victory, and single handedly stop the vampires’ latest
attack.

Calmer now, Sonja’s resolve grew
stronger. If she must fight the vermin, she vowed to allow them
nothing of her former self as bounty. Turning from the front door,
she finished dousing the cabin’s interior with the lamp oil. She
paused when she reached the bed where she and Ty had made love only
hours before, closing her eyes for a moment. The gift’s recall was
excellent, complete with physical sensations to the point of
torture. On a silent oath, she wheeled as the bed went up in
flames. Never looking back, she stalked to the front door and out
on the porch to meet her guests.

***

Emerging from the shadows of the
burned off mist, a magnificent jet-black horse gave a snort. He
halted shy of the sun reaching his rider’s legs. With a jerk of his
head, as if announcing his presence, the stallion snorted and pawed
the hard packed ground. The great animal pranced in place with a
smooth utterance from his master.

“
Mrs. Brooks, we meet
again.” Perkins’ low, calm voice crept along her skin like an
unwelcome sexual advance.

“
Hello, Major. You’re
looking good for a dead man.” Her sarcasm wasn’t lost on the men
with Perkins. She squared her shoulders as several snickers erupted
behind him. Sonja made sure she showed no reaction to their
amusement other than the narrowing of her eyes on Perkins who
scowled at her jab. She ignored him, as she wasn’t in a joking
mood.

He appeared no different than he had
at their last encounter. Perkins rode a dusky gray Dapple with
black socks. His uniform bore the embellishment of an officer. His
rank as a major in the Union Army gave him a perfect cover for his
death dealings. Those not of his kind suspected nothing of his true
identity as a right-hand lackey to the coven’s leader. Perkins’
jet-black hair framed his thin face with a pointed chin. His pallor
was milk white with gray undertones. Coal black eyes rested
soullessly in their sockets on either side of a prominent but
straight nose. The cavalry hat sitting jauntily atop his head was
clean and the U.S. Army insignia gleamed in brass laced by gold
braid. Vampires did enjoy their dress blues.