Chapter Five from The Tarishe Curse

 

Chapter Five

Rock Beast

 

 

Enemies may unite to eliminate a common threat,

but never without a wary eye fixed on their ally.

 

 

It was a much shorter journey this time being hauled by a vampire bat, but the trip found its end in the exact spot as the night before—outside a dark cave dug into the high face of a mountain range. I was dropped onto the same narrow ledge at the cavern’s mouth and confronted at once by Jovani. His velvety voice hit my ears before I could fully stand—a mutter of justification for his actions that had no persuasive effect on me. He was nothing more than a ruthless killer in my eyes, the traitor who had cut down my mate and loyal brothers. My own voice rose in reproach over the vampire’s hissing.

“You treacherous, double-crossing, heartless monster! How could you? I gave you Evadine! I showed you compassion! Kindness! I gave you your mate, and in return you murdered mine!”

Half-shaded by an overhang, half-lit by moonlight, his red lips parted as if he intended to answer me. But I already knew what selfishness had prompted his actions. He had meant to appease the witch to save himself and his clan—a plan he learned was futile after overhearing Thaddeus confess his mother’s deadly intentions for the vampires.

“I offered you the werewolves’ allegiance! I offered you our strength, our numbers, our assistance to destroy a mutual enemy! I would’ve fought to defend you!”

Jovani had the nerve to cut in just then. “And will you still?”

My stomach rolled, threatening to vomit at the bloodsucker’s feet. How dare he ask such a thing after what he had done. I shoved at the immovable demon.

“You killed my husband! You slayed him with my own sword!” I screamed and shoved at him again, angered that the brute wouldn’t so much as falter in his stance. Turning away, I cried out into the night, attempting to vent a portion of the fury tormenting me.

“Jovani, you have no soul!”

“That I will not dispute.”

My fingers curled like claws, wanting to scratch out his crimson eyes, but I restrained myself and slowly turned to face him again.

“I showed you mercy by ordering Evadine returned to your side. You told her you owed me a favor in return; I heard you whisper it. So why did you kill him? You could have extended an ounce of mercy in return and left Kresh alone.”

“I owed that mongrel a heartless disservice. Surely your snooping ears overheard those words as well?”

“A disservice does not warrant murder!” I shrieked. It was all I could do not to physically beat on the fiend, but I knew it would be wasted energy.

“You are too quick to assume, pet.”

“I am not your pet!” I snarled. But his curious remark seized my greater attention. What had I assumed? I had seen the bodies with my own eyes—Kresh and his werewolf brothers discarded in a lifeless heap. I had seen the stab wounds, the flowing blood, the dead stillness. They could not have survived my silver blade. Its lethalness to werewolves was no secret.

“Thaddeus said you slayed the werewolves with my sword. He said you took possession of it.”

“That is true.” Jovani unveiled the hexed blade as if he were a magician pulling it out of a hat. Before I could reach for the hilt, he tossed my weapon over the cliff’s edge, making it sing a shrill note while spinning through the air until the first clank reverberated, smacking against the mountainside.

“You idiot!” I ran to peer over the brink, searching for any moonlit gleam of metal. The sword had come to a stop about ten feet down, wedged between a fat limb and the jagged rock face. It would require a steep descent to reach it.

I spun around to face Jovani, noticing for the first time additional pairs of crimson eyes gleaming at his back—vampires lurking inside the cave.

“Why did you do that?” I demanded, ignoring the watchful eyes of the others.

“Your sword is a curse. Why keep it unless you mean to slaughter more of your kind?”

I felt my jaw lock, having no logical answer to his question. Frankly, I wished the thing destroyed, an impossibility unless the witch too were destroyed. Until then, I feared it falling into the wrong hands. Like Jovani’s.

“If you are finished with your pointless tantrum, pet, I suggest you cease yapping long enough to hear me out.”

I squared my shoulders and copied how he stood as still as a tree. My stare tapered while my jawed clenched so tight it hurt my teeth. I would let the bloodsucker talk. What choice did I have?

“After carefully considering your offer to temporarily join forces for the purpose of killing the witch of Tarishe… I accept.”

“Denied,” I spat. “The offer no longer stands.”

Jovani gave the slightest tilt of the head. A slender eyebrow rose barely enough to show doubt in his expression. He went on speaking as if I had said nothing.

“My one and only purpose for this alliance is to protect my clan—a circle that has dwindled in numbers thanks to the cruel coercion of the wolf you call Kresh. It is his fault that we now suffer the enmity of the witch. I hold him solely responsible; therefore, I expect the werewolves to do whatever it takes to fix this mess they dragged us into.”

“Kresh was right not to trust you.”

“And I was right not to trust you,” Jovani countered, “which is why I made the attempt to appease a more advantageous ally. For years that weathered enchantress has been a rare source of security for my clan, making rival clans blind to our whereabouts, casting desirable prey at our feet. In contrast, what have the werewolves ever done for us? Nay—nothing but prove themselves a foul-smelling nuisance. Had the witch accepted my humble request for exoneration and held true to her terms for reconcilement, I would even now be in her service. But it is clear to me that she is a devious and unforgiving creature indeed. Therefore, my last hope, and yours as well, is to see her dead. Our mutual need must outweigh the hatred between us.”

“Mutual need is no longer enough. You took my husband’s life, and I will never forgive that.”

“An understandable and valid argument—if it were true.”

His words, and the cocky way he spoke them, made me react. Wide-eyed, pulse hastening, I commanded him, “Explain!”

“Certainly, pet. Your husband is not dead.”

I was sure I knew what game he was playing. “I’m not talking about that pigeon-brained buffoon, Thaddeus”

“Neither am I.”

Jovani’s half-illuminated smugness glinted with humor for a split second. I was at a loss for words, fearful of being manipulated by false hope. My brain scrambled to explain away his twisted ruse.

“My favor to you has been repaid. A mate for a mate.”

I glanced at the cave and yearned by some miracle to see Kresh step out of the darkness, but he didn’t. Jovani’s words remained hollow to me, a sick scheme.

“Did you or did you not use my sword last night to strike down my werewolf escorts?”

His answer pained me, voiced without a hint of remorse. “I most assuredly did.”

“You killed them for that awful witch,” I groaned.

“I did it for my clan,” Jovani corrected. “It was the price of atonement—your lives to save ours.”

I glanced aside, my eyes watering. All those loyal wolves. Their lives had bought him nothing.

“However, I did spare one mongrel for your sake.”

My beloved’s name crossed my lips without thinking. “But… but I saw him among the dead…”

“Among them, yes. Not one of them.”

“But… he was wounded… gouged… I saw the open gash…”

“Painfully wounded indeed! I owed the conniving dog a heartless disservice. You do recall those were my words. That debt too has been repaid. The blade I used, however, was non-fatal to werewolves, although I imagine the healing process stung a bit.”

“Where is he now? Where? I’ll not believe a word from a soulless bloodsucker, show me! Show me my husband!”

Jovani made the slightest jerk with his head, and four vampires emerged from the cavern, their alabaster skin reflecting moonlight like glass. The group cast crimson glares my way before rushing over the cliff, transforming into massive bats in the process. Their wings stirred up a cold breeze that caused me an unpleasant shiver. I watched the bats dissolve into the night. Jovani kept his focus on them far longer than my squinted gaze could detect even a speck of their existence.

“And now we wait.”

I was left to stand alone in the moonlight. Jovani joined those hidden within the pitch-black of the cavern. I imagined Evadine among other vampires who made no noise at all.

Folding my arms for warmth’s sake, I stepped closer to the cliff’s edge where my eyes dropped to look once again for the discarded silver sword. It was still wedged next to a brushwood bough that had somehow found enough moisture to sprout from a rocky crevice. I was determined to retrieve my weapon, but doubted the time was opportune. And yet, it seemed unlikely that a second chance would present itself. The unnerving silence made me want to glimpse over a shoulder to check on my enemy, except my stubbornness refused. I would not give them the satisfaction of even the smallest gesture of concern. It would likely prove useless anyway; those demons would keep hidden until choosing to be seen. They were watching me, though. I was sure of it.

I sat on the ground and swung my legs over the brink, half expecting Jovani’s steel arm to wrench me from my seat and plant my butt on some hard boulder, commanding me not to move. No such thing happened, so I turned onto my stomach and felt for sure footing, keeping both hands flat on the dirt shelf. Despite difficulty maneuvering—the majority caused by the full, white dress still adorning me—I managed to successfully climb down and retrieve my sword. It was trickier scaling the rock, mostly due to the number of times I slipped on my own skirt.

As soon as my hand reached above the ledge, I felt a cold clamp around my wrist. Jovani pulled me partway up, took me by the waist, and then set my feet flat on the ground. I pushed against him until he voluntarily moved away.

“You’re welcome,” he smirked.

The sword remained in my possession, a fact that surprised me. I hid it at my back and informed the bloodsucker, “I did not retrieve this for you.”

“Undoubtedly.”

My hostility seemed to humor him, yet he returned a powerful glare throughout the duration of our shared silence. He appeared like a marble manikin until something in the sky caused his pupils to dart upward. I squinted but saw nothing. A minute later, the faint silhouette of black wings caught my eye, and I automatically held my breath.

My focus remained glued on the cloud of vampire bats drawing nearer and nearer. The darkness made everything a shadow, but I could clearly distinguish a figure hanging from the hooks of two bats—shared cargo that appeared limp and sagging. I dared to believe it was Kresh.

When his furry form hit the ground mere strides from me, I ran and fell at his side. His umber coat was caked in blood. Some patches had hardened, spiked like black icicles. Others were a mash of thick muck. I put a hand against his side and felt him cringe at my touch. It seemed a chore for him to lift his head, and I nearly collapsed when his weary eyes opened to see me. He was alive but in bad shape.

“Oh, Kresh,” I cried. My open arms hesitated, wanting to hold him but afraid of causing him further pain. After a tentative moment of indecision, my hands went for his face, grasping it by each side. Our eyes mirrored mutual anguish until Kresh’s gaze narrowed and shifted to the audience of vampires behind me. He struggled to rise to his feet despite my protest.

“No, no, don’t stand up; you’re hurt—please, Kresh.”

He ignored my pleading and managed an unsteady stance on all fours. A vehement growl vibrated in his throat as if he were a live volcano threatening to explode. Reluctantly, I turned to face the vampires too, but remained on bended knee close beside my mate. I feared he would be unable to stand for long, and I expected him to lean against me if necessary.

For the few moments my back was turned, more than a dozen vampires had stepped out into the open to watch us. I recognized four from the night prior: Percival, Concetta, Evander, and the exotic princess, Araminta. Evadine was not among them, a fact that surprised me. But I doubted her hiding place existed very far. Despite being ridiculously outnumbered, I spoke boldly to their leader.

“I want you and your rats to leave us.”

“I’m afraid that’s not going to happen.”

“Leave. Now.”

Kresh snarled loudly, underscoring my demand. I felt anxious about his injuries.

“I’m truly sorry, pet, but I cannot leave until we’ve come to an acceptable agreement.”

“I will not help you—not after what you’ve done. And I will not be bullied into anything. Not by you or Thaddeus or anyone.”

“I believe you.”

“Good. Then we’ve nothing further to discuss.”

“Wrong.”

The word had not been spoken by Jovani; it lacked his smooth, velvety tone. It had been rasped by an individual concealed inside the cave. I expected the emergence of a sleek vampire when a much taller, broader form stepped into view. He had large wings folded on his back, the upper wrists and primary wingtips visible behind a massive body of chiseled musculature. And though his movements seemed fluid, he looked as if he had been carved out of stone. I gawked at the granite monster, having no recollection of ever laying eyes on this… thing… before. Guardedly, I rose to my feet.

“What in the netherworld…?” I muttered, tightening the grip on my sword.

It wasn’t until Kresh put a hand on my arm, seeking a crutch for stability, that I realized he had taken on human form. I worried in a whisper over my shoulder.

“You’re not strong enough yet, Kresh, what are you doing?”

He squeezed softly on my arm, continuing to use me for balance to some degree. His nakedness was easily concealed by me. His weakened condition was not.

“Don’t give into them,” he breathed.

“What is that thing—that rock beast?”

“A gargoyle.”

“A what?” But there was no time to explain. The vampires had stepped aside to allow the creature a pathway to approach me. Jovani moved closer as well.

I brought my sword up until the tip pointed in the vicinity of this behemoth’s heart, not that it could cut through stone, if indeed that’s what he was made of. Jerking my blade the slightest bit to signal a halt, I barked out questions, demanding answers.

“Who are you? Where did you come from? And how is it you’re in league with these bloodsuckers?”

The gargoyle made no attempt to disarm me, and he remained at the opposite end of my sword, allowing just that distance between us. The few words he used to answer my questions came out as gravelly as his appearance. The voice haunted me, yet I had never heard speech as gritty as his.

“I am Barron from Tarishe. Jovani is my brother.”

I scoffed at the likelihood his statements were true. “I come from the village of Tarishe, and in all my years inside those gates I have never laid eyes on the likes of you. You are not Tarishian, Barron—if that is your real name and not another lie.”

He repeated the same words as before. “I come from Tarishe. I was sent by my mistress, the one you call Grandmother.”

“The one I call witch,” I corrected, but his words were cause for concern. “How can you be from Tarishe if I’ve never seen you until now? And why would she send you when she already sent Jovani and Thaddeus?”

“You see things poorly, Cat.”

My heart stuttered. He knew my nickname.

“Her name is Duvalla,” Kresh interjected in a growl. “Queen Duvalla.” I felt pressure on my arm as he tried to stand up taller. It was difficult for me not to turn and assist him.

Barron went on talking without acknowledging my real name. “I come for Jovani. I want to protect him.”

“Protect him… from who? Us? You fear retribution from the werewolves?”

“No.”

“From the witch,” I guessed.

“Yes.”

“And you want to protect him… because he’s your… brother?”

“Yes.”

“Good luck with that,” I laughed derisively. “The witch means to repay him a heartless disservice,” I said, making use of Jovani’s own words. “She will likely succeed.”

“This is true.”

“But you say the witch sent you. Certainly, it wasn’t to protect him.”

“No.”

“Then why did she send you?”

“To exterminate his clan.”

The paradox stunned me. I glanced over at the pack of vampires standing as calm and still as the night itself. None of them showed any sign of fear.

“She sent you to wipe out his clan,” I repeated, thinking. “Slay all but Jovani. Revenge for the attack on her.”

“Yes.”

“But you won’t do it.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Does the witch know this? Does she know you consider this shameless traitor a brother?”

“No.”

Jovani cut in, both offended and tired of our game of twenty questions. He expounded on what I had only just surmised.

“Barron and I share comparable afflictions to sunlight. This fact served to unite us as brothers ages ago, a bond that was strengthened by a pledge to protect one another and our families. Like myself, Barron was recruited by the Tarishe witch to serve her on occasion in exchange for considerable advantages. He and I have done so faithfully for decades… until now. We are stuck in a grim situation—one I have put him in, the same one your mate has put me in—and the only solution appears to be eliminating the witch, an impossible task without the element of complete surprise.

“If it were practical to flee her hand, we would have done so and left the werewolves to endure on their own. However, vengeance knows no bounds in this case. The witch will stop at nothing to hunt us down. She will recruit others—our enemies—and pay them generously to torment and slay us. Like it or not, we three now share a powerful foe. One that must be destroyed.”

“Then destroy her,” Kresh growled. His grip on my arm tightened as he vocally attacked Jovani. “Finish the job you vowed to carry out! Poison her with venom and rip her apart as you swore you would do! Had you not failed as miserably as you keep your word—”

“Had you not stolen my mate and threatened her life, I would never have made that foolish vow in the first place! You forced my hand, knowing I would swear to anything to protect Evadine. You are the reason my clan is in danger!”

“Had I not abducted that unpleasant she-leech, your clan would have tried to murder us all!”

“A less demanding task—one at which we would most-assuredly have succeeded.”

“Over your ugly mate’s dead body.”

“Enough!” Barron roared aloud. His granite wings appeared to shudder edgily. “Arguing is pointless. What’s done is done.”

“He’s right,” Jovani agreed. “There is nothing to be gained from stewing over the past.”

“Spoken like a real hypocrite.” Kresh said. “You just slaughtered eight of my brothers as vengeance for past deeds!”

“It was an act of penitence, dog, with the added benefit of evening the score. And you’ve overlooked a great show of mercy on my part—the fact that you continue to breathe.”

“You can beg for mercy when my strength returns and I snap your—”

“Silence him!” Barron insisted in a roar.

Worried that one of Jovani’s clan might move to carry out the order, I sliced through the air with my sword as a warning to stay back. No one budged. Every gaze met mine as if they expected me to command Kresh’s silence. I refused.

“He simply speaks my thoughts. Would you rather hear them from me?”

Barron contemplated me strongly and then wisely acquiesced. “You have reason to be angry. But we all have reasons.”

“What he says is true.”

“Shut up, Jovani.” The vampire glared daggers at me, and I had no doubt Kresh was returning the kindness.

With a huff of annoyance, Barron took over speaking. “I have a plan to stop the witch. It will work.”

I said nothing when he paused, trusting him less than his so-called brother; however, curiosity had me itching to hear this fail-proof plan. No doubt Barron knew he had me by the ear.

“If you mean to kill a master of magic, it must be done swiftly by the hand least expected.”

“Which means Barron is the only one who can do the deed,” Jovani cut in, spelling out the obvious. “The witch would be wary of anyone else.”

I nodded once to convey my understanding before Barron continued.

“An ambush will not work. My mistress is old, yet alert and skilled at hurried spells. Few hands are faster.”

“That explains why my clan failed. I assumed our numbers would easily overpower her.”

“Numbers don’t matter,” the gargoyle said. “Something more is required.”

“Then why do you need us?” I asked. “My presence, and that of the werewolves, would put her on guard. Surely, you’d be more likely to succeed without us.”

The monster shook his stone head. “No. You are the more we require.”

“Explain,” I demanded, feeling Kresh tense up beside me.

The gargoyle offered one self-explanatory word. “Distraction.”

“You want to use the werewolves as a diversion. How so?”

Barron finally chose to lay out his entire plan.

“My mistress believes that even now I am carrying out her orders, eliminating the remaining members of Jovani’s clan. I have been instructed to bring only him and Evadine back alive. Thaddeus was to retrieve his new bride. He will fail. If I deliver all three of you to my mistress, it will prove the depth of my loyalty. She will assume I carried out her orders to the last, and her attention will either turn to Jovani—to watch him beg for Evadine’s life—or to you, Cat, to erase your memory and neutralize you as a threat.”

It was unsettling how casually this stranger addressed me with a nickname only my closest friends used. Friends who, for the most part, were village huntsmen. How often had our modest hunting parties tracked game in the forest, apparently watched from the shadows by gargoyles.

Jovani immediately voiced a reservation. Apparently, he had been unaware of one detail in his brother’s plan. “I will not have Evadine involved.”

“She must go.”

“No. I go alone. Tell the witch you couldn’t find her.”

“She will not believe it.”

“Then make her believe it.”

Barron turned to the vampire, taking his attention off me for the first time. “Jovani, it is unlikely I would find you without your mate.”

“Then say she escaped—at the last minute she broke free and fled.”

“No. I was ordered to return with you both. If this plan is to work, I cannot give any reason for doubt. Evadine will not be harmed; I promise.”

Jovani appeared as distressed as he had the prior night while anxiously awaiting the return of his beloved. I couldn’t help but feel touched by how he desired to protect her. Being asked to put Evadine’s life in danger a second time had to be torture for him—not that he didn’t deserve a healthy dose of personal agony.

“I don’t like this, Barron. I’ll go mad if any harm comes to her.”

“She will not be harmed. Trust me.”

With no further argument, the gargoyle turned back to continue communicating his plan.

“We will confront the witch inside the walls of Tarishe. Meanwhile, the werewolves must gather outside and make their howling voices heard from every direction. It will appear they have come to rescue their queen—a desperate act in the eyes of my mistress, but one that will cause her concern. Her attention will be divided in too many directions, making her uneasy. Her response will be to cast a spell and subdue a portion of the threat. Whether directed at Jovani or the werewolves, it matters not, for as soon as her energies are engrossed in forming a spell, I will strike from behind and thrust Cat’s sword through the witch’s heart. She will never see it coming and have no time to cease one spell to begin the defensive chant of another. With the cooperation of everyone, this will work.”

“Not everyone,” Kresh objected. “What about all the other leeches? Where will they be? You expect our pack to stick their necks out while Jovani’s clan hides in the shadows unharmed?”

“It is vital the vampires keep their distance since my mistress will assume them dead. The presence of even one unexpected survivor would rouse her suspicions. The error would be questioned, and the witch would keep me cautiously within view, ruining any possibility of our success.”

“A convenient out, if you ask me.”

“A necessary tactic.”

Kresh growled disagreeably in his throat. I disliked the risk as much as he did. The questionable alliance even more. As intensely as I sought the witch’s demise, as passionately as I yearned for my memory and life restored, I felt too uneasy. Everything rested in the hands of a creature I had no reason to trust. If this gargoyle failed, it would place me in enemy hands, my identity erased, my love for Kresh and our family supplanted by hatred. I refused to go back there.

“The werewolves decline,” I announced. A hard fact.

Jovani took a step forward, and his eyes grew so wide I could see two ruby orbs staring at me. “You are not the one putting your life on the line. You will live! Evadine is meant to die!”

“Your mate will not die if this gargoyle succeeds at his plan.”

“A plan that includes you and your sword! My clan is meant to be ripped apart, burned, and forgotten—a fate only the witch’s demise will prevent. Last night you asked me… no, you implored me to ally with the werewolves for this one mutual need. You want her dead. I want her dead. This plan will work if we ally forces as you proposed.”

“That was when I believed you were decent, before you slaughtered the bravest and strongest werewolves whose help you now shamelessly entreat. Do you think I can simply cast that ugly truth aside?”

“Did you not ask me to do the same? Your mate, through duress, caused the deaths of beloved members of my clan, a tragedy that occurred only hours before you begged me to consider a mutually-beneficial alliance. Did you think I felt nothing for the grave loss of my own?”

He had turned the tables on me and there I stood, agonizing in his shoes. My head shook contrarily—uneasy and untrusting and unwilling. But I did want the witch dead. It appeared we all did. And the werewolves had been over fourteen years failing at endeavors on their own. Was mutual need enough to risk trusting a calculated enemy in hopes of destroying a more powerful one?

“My plan will work.” Barron’s sure confidence made me wonder if he had witnessed our future in a crystal ball. I studied his gray eyes, discerning no expression in them. He was nothing but a sculpture carved from a block of stone until his mouth moved. “When all is done, we part peacefully.”

“I agree to nothing,” I said, adding before Jovani could protest, “I need time alone to consider the risks of this… unusual alliance.”

“Time is not something we can squander—” the vampire started. He was muted by his brother’s spoken consent.

“One day. I will come for you at sunset tomorrow.”

I nodded in agreement.

Jovani narrowed his eyes, clearly unhappy with the delay. Without a sound, he and his followers vanished inside the darkness of the cave. I was hesitant to turn my back on Barron, but dared to whisper over my shoulder, “Kresh, can you walk? I want to go home.”

I would never have believed a boulder could fly, or soar for that matter, had I not witnessed the heavy gargoyle spread his wings and take to the air. I didn’t mean to shriek when his thick arm clamped around me, and I glanced down with greater concern for Kresh. The relief I felt at discovering him within Barron’s other arm was immense and yet absurd.

“What are you doing? Where are you taking us?” I cried.

“To the werewolves.”

A glance at Kresh reflected mutual concern. Was our pack’s whereabouts no secret to this creature? Did he know where my children were hidden?

Being crushed within a cold, granite vise turned out to be worse than the steely embrace of a vampire. I couldn’t move my arms to use my sword, but I doubted its effectiveness against a rock beast anyway. As we soared, the air stung my face as if microscopic icicles were pelting my skin. The smell of rain, however, I found soothing enough to breathe in. My greatest concern was for Kresh who had retaken his wolf shape. I would have done the same to keep warm, had I been able.

Glancing down, I viewed the abyss of purgatory. A look up presented the opposite illusion, a black-velvet vault that dangled glittery diamonds by the millions. I chose to concentrate on the night’s sky while squinting against the wind.

Our gargoyle carrier eventually dumped us on a soft patch of long grass inside a circle of trees. He said nothing, but retreated without delay, producing a stronger waft of air and more noise than any vampire.

I discarded my sword and fell on Kresh, feeling at his fur in the darkness. All celestial lights were blocked by the surrounding forest, leaving us nearly blind.

“Are you okay? Kresh, are you okay?” I repeated worriedly.

His muzzle nodded against my leg until it became a whiskered jaw resting on my lap. I bent over to kiss the face of my husband. Feeling certain we were alone, I allowed my defenses to crumble.

“I believed you were dead,” I admitted in a weepy whisper. “I really thought you were dead. I didn’t know what I was going to do without you, Kresh; I wanted to die without you.”

Emotion closed up my throat and at the same time brought warmth to my frozen nose. I felt the pressure of brimming tears spill over and stream down my cheeks before splashing onto Kresh’s bare skin. I stroked his forehead, his tousled hair, his stubbly face, his thick neck. I would have embraced him if not for the possibility of agitating tender wounds. My heart rejoiced that my beloved was alive. His hand cupped warm and soft against my cheek, but his attempt to wipe away my tears only served to produce more. When he tugged on my arm, inviting me to lie down with him, I complied and stretched out my legs to sink onto my side facing him.

I felt the buttons pop off my dress as he ripped it open at the back and pulled the bodice apart. With help, I squirmed out of the garment. Kresh discarded it like a rotting hunk of animal carcass. No doubt it smelled as bad to him, reeking of vampire scent. It was a reminder of the lies we wished to escape, the nightmare from which we ached to awaken.

My husband pulled me close, and I hungrily kissed his lips while tears dampened my face and his. My body burned with heat where our bare skin pressed together. Elsewhere, the moist air generated patches of goosebumps. Kresh accepted my excess of kisses, returning only a few. I wanted him, to be one with him, but his lack of strength was evident. He needed rest and a chance to continue healing from suffered wounds.

The brutal imagery once again made me sick to my stomach, and I questioned the sanity of even considering an alliance with a brood of murderous bloodsuckers. I remembered the maxim: it isn’t always true that a critical end justifies desperate means.

I had stopped tasting Kresh’s lips to think, and in one move I found myself flat on my back, the weight of my husband pinning me to the grass.

“I want you,” he breathed, planting a kiss on my neck.

I had no desire to argue with him. Every portion of me was willing to surrender, but he was wounded and in no condition to…

Kresh gently proved me wrong.

He fell asleep first, holding me securely in his arms. I drifted off after a while, staring at the only star visible through a thick canopy of leaves. Hope seemed a futile wish, but I troubled the lonely star to grant it anyway.

 

I must have slept soundly. It wasn’t filtered daylight but the sound of casual conversation that opened my eyes. A jolt of panic had me attempting to sit up until Kresh shushed my fears with repeated whispers. His hand pressed lightly against my chest, keeping me lying flat in our bed of grass. Staring up into a pair of ochre eyes, I relaxed under the warmth of my husband’s smile.

My ears interpreted a mix of nearby voices as calm, friendly, ordinary chatter. With that as background noise, I enjoyed the silent attention of my mate. The way his hand brushed softly over every inch of my bare skin tempted my eyelids to close so my mind could drift, but I kept focused, not wanting to miss a moment of admiring this beautiful man and his seductive, wild look. I felt a flood of emotion set in, born from absolute, interminable love for him. I wished for the voices to cease, for time to halt, for the moment we were living to replay over and over and over perpetually. The world could have its gain and glory, its vengeance and victories. All I wanted was the enduring love and attention of this man who most assuredly was my soulmate.

My eyes flickered from his soft stare and landed on a length of red, raised scar tissue that ran from his ribs to his hip. I examined at a glance other closed cuts and sallow bruises marring his torso and legs. By human standards, the rapid healing of these wounds was an astounding miracle. Kresh read my mind, and in a hushed voice he answered the concern on my face.

“The scars will vanish in time. I’ll be as good as new soon, you’ll see.”

I frowned. “I’m so sorry this happened to you.” I couldn’t help but feel guilty.

“It’s not your fault, Duvalla. You didn’t do anything. You had no way of knowing—”

“But you did, you knew,” I said, speaking less quietly over him. “You were aware of Jovani’s nature. You knew what he was capable of. I didn’t believe you. I didn’t listen. I thought for sure he would help us.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I should have listened to you.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“Our brothers are dead because—”

“Duvalla, it’s not your fault.”

Perhaps it wasn’t. Perhaps not. Yet what happened was the result of my gross error in judgment. My ignorance. Thus… my fault.

“Duvalla?”

I looked up to find Kresh regarding me strongly, his dark eyebrows drawn low and taut. “Duvalla, will you listen to my advice regarding this rash plan concocted by our lifelong enemies?”

I nodded, though it was obvious what his advice would be.

“Don’t agree to it. Refuse them. Stay here where it’s safe.”

“Safe…” I repeated in a dismal sigh. “Safe for how long?”

“For as long as we run.”

“Run… while she sends Thaddeus and vampires and gargoyles and who knows what other kind of unearthly creatures after us? We’ll never be safe or free until that awful witch is dead.”

“But we don’t have to ally ourselves with those self-seeking leeches. Jovani’s concern is for his clan only. He will sacrifice you—us—anyone else to protect himself.”

“To protect Evadine.”

Kresh agreed. “Yes, her most of all.”

“I know what you say is true. I believe their motivation is purely selfish.”

“Then refuse him.”

“And do what instead? Is there another plan? A reasonable alternative?”

“We’ll figure something out given time.”

“Kresh, it’s been over fourteen years! Fourteen awful years and nothing has worked. It’s hopeless.”

“It’s not hopeless. Never hopeless, Duvalla. You can’t give up.”

“I know, I know, I’m not giving up. But I’m not sure we can do this alone. We’ve experienced so much death… so many failed attempts. Maybe it’s time to face the fact that we need help. And Barron’s plan sounds like it might work. He’s confident it will. The witch trusts him. I’ve thought about it, Kresh, our pack doesn’t need to be involved; I don’t want to risk their lives. Jovani, Evadine, and I are enough to distract that heartless, old hag. As soon as she starts in with one of her evil spells, Barron can stab her in the back. When the deed is done, my memories and the ability to transform will be restored. I’ll change into werewolf form and race home to you.”

“You’re not going without me—that’s not debatable. I wish you wouldn’t go at all. I have a bad feeling about this.”

“I know. Truthfully, I don’t feel good about it either, but a combined effort may be our only realistic chance at freedom. Barron could be the one to save us. The witch trusts him.”

“And what if he fails?”

“Then we all suffer. That’s why I’m willing to wager Jovani and his so-called brother will make this plan work. We all gain from the witch’s death. Her end benefits everyone.”

“I still feel uneasy about this, Duvalla. Promise me you won’t let your guard down.”

“I won’t.”

Kresh hugged me close, and the nearby chatter played louder in my ears. It dawned on me I was listening to my own people, fellow werewolves going about their daily business not far from our private hiding spot. The trill of young laughter made me think of my daughter and infant son.

“Nehemia,” I breathed, longing to hold the babe and to see how much he had grown in my absence.

“He’s safe with Sarti. Natasha too. They all await you.”

“They know I’m here?”

“Yes. Everyone knows.”

I was suddenly aware of my nudity, and naturally inched closer to Kresh, wishing he were a blanket I could wrap around my body. His humored grin made me blush.

“What’s the matter? Have you grown bashful?”

“I need my dress.” I reached feebly past his arm in the direction he had discarded it in the night.

“I’m afraid that stinking rag is gone for good.”

Lifting onto my elbow, I looked past him. The white gown had vanished.

My eyes were wide with concern as I informed him, “I am not walking out into plain view without a covering.”

“Of course not,” he said before kissing my hair. But any comfort meant by those words was lost in the impish grin on his face. He was on his knees, holding back a laugh, before he announced, “Just put on your fur coat and follow me.”

Had he not moved out of arm’s reach while transforming into a wolf, I would have hit him, despite his bruised flesh. I called after him as he vanished between the tall grasses. He answered with only a simple yap that I had no way of translating.

Sitting up—feeling both abandoned and exposed—I covered myself as well as possible by hugging both knees to my chest. My certainty that Kresh would return with suitable clothing was beginning to wane until I heard my name uttered by a female. A wave of relief eased my anxiety when I recognized the voice.

“Sarti?”

“Yes. Kresh asked me to bring you these.”

Her hands pushed through the grass first, holding up a folded garment. I waited for Sarti to come to me and then gratefully accepted what turned out to be a hand-stitched, wool wrap fastened lengthwise by crisscrossed lacing. Sarti tied the gown closed after I slipped it on. I forced an awkward smile, but her attention focused on my hair.

“Turn around… you’ve got grass and dead flowers…”

My fingers naturally began to comb through my long, black strands, shaking things loose as Sarti carefully removed more stubborn pieces. The flowers were left over from my forced marriage to Thaddeus. The grass, from a sensual night with Kresh on an eve of my honeymoon. Devilish irony.

When satisfied that all unwanted debris had been removed from my hair, Sarti took the liberty of pulling loose strands away from my face and securing them in a braid at the back of my head.

“You look beautiful,” she announced. Her smile appeared sincere. Still, I doubted any amount of hurried grooming could prevent me from appearing any better than the disheveled mess I was.

Sarti led me out of the tall grass into a larger clearing within the trees. Kresh and I had spent the night less than a hundred strides from the werewolves. It was frightening to realize Barron had tracked them to their exact location. A quick look around caught a picture of fewer souls than anticipated, most moving about in human form. I prayed that the werewolf population hadn’t decreased so dramatically in my absence and that the majority were simply out of view. Maybe a half-dozen canvas tents stood erected along the perimeter, camouflaged by foliage and timbers. Individuals ducked to disappear inside these shelters while others stepped out hauling full shoulder bags, backpacks, or underarm rolls. It appeared the group was in the process of decamping. The eventual awareness of my presence put a halt to all the busy activity.

I heard my name uttered from multiple directions as werefolk performed a collective, drawn-out gesture of respect for their queen. I felt unworthy. Why bow when they ought to condemn me for my part in years of suffering?

“Duvalla, come this way.”

Avoiding eye contact with anyone, I followed Sarti across the open space and into the woods again. I failed to notice a low, muddy shelter until a tarp door was pulled back. Sarti held it open and waited, gesturing for me to enter. I ducked inside, my heart racing with anticipation.

The first pair of eyes I met were as deep brown as my own. Natasha’s eyelashes fluttered, desirously long, framing a gaze that worked hard at evaluating me. Beside her, Kresh stood on bended knee wearing a wide smile and a fleece wrap much like the one his sister had helped me slip into. The robe covered his entire body, arms and legs included, hiding evidence of scars. Bouncing a bundled infant in his arms, he looked to be a proud parent. More so, he looked happy. The infant gurgled, sounding as delighted as his father.

I paused, overwhelmed by emotion. This was my family. Mine. The sharp pang of lost years hit me hard.

Kresh held up our baby so I could see how the boy grinned. His hair had grown into a wild black tangle like his father’s. His cheeks were puffed up as well, resembling neither of us. Apparently, he was being well-fed.

“Come hold him.” The child was extended to me in offer.

I glanced at Sarti and then at Natasha as if seeking their permission. I wanted with all my heart to rush over and embrace my children, but my legs went stiff, and I felt like I had no control over my own muscles.

“Come, Duvalla,” Kresh said, encouraging me near. “Your son wishes to be held by his mother.”

“Me too,” squeaked a soft, angelic voice. “Natasha shrunk closer to her father, glancing up at him before looking crookedly at me. It seemed now my permission was being sought.

I leaned my body forward, relieved when my feet naturally advanced to keep myself from falling. Closing the gap between the tent entrance and my beautiful family, I bent down to their level and knelt beside my husband. Nehemiah was placed directly in my arms. He was heavier and more alert than I recalled. His smile vanished for a moment as he examined me, eyes darting to study my face. I bit my lip, worried my child might not remember his mother. His eyebrows skewed and I thought he might cry, but then a little squeak burst from his mouth. He squirmed, waving his chubby arms with excitement. I laughed and cried at the same time as Nehemiah rounded his plump cheeks and beamed. Kresh hugged Natasha and me close, a cherished girl in each arm. If a spell could have trapped us in the moment, I would have been eternally content.

Pressing his lips against my hair, my husband informed me he had to leave for a while, but that we were in good hands. My sour expression was response enough to cause him to utter reassurances.

“Don’t worry, Duvalla. Sarti will remain with you and the children. I’ll keep within earshot, but it’s important I go assist the others. Our young ones need to be as far from this location as possible by nightfall. There are guards right outside and scouts patrolling the perimeter. Everyone has been warned to stay alert.”

I nodded my understanding, though I hated to see him go. My gaze lingered on the fabric door after it fell closed behind Kresh, yearning to see him return to us. When Nehemiah fidgeted in my arms, I looked down at him and saw Natasha’s face in the background. She appeared to be scrutinizing me intently.

With a smile, I invited her to come sit with me, an offer that earned her immediate consent. We made ourselves comfortable on a pile of fleece blankets that I was certain had been laid out for our reunion. I twisted my neck to look for Sarti and found her busily packing what few personal items existed in the tent.

“Momma?”

The word was a sweet song to my ears, and I turned my full attention on my daughter.

“Yes, Natasha?”

“Are you going to stay with us now?”

The extent of her frown when I didn’t answer caught me off guard. I was both heartbroken and touched to observe her disappointment. Shifting Nehemiah to one arm, I placed a hand on my daughter’s shoulder.

“Natasha, I would love nothing more than to stay here with you and never leave. I’m sorry for how difficult things have been—for all the years we’ve been forced to live apart. It pains me more than you’ll ever know. I wish that you and your brother and all the others were living at home, carefree and happy. I want things to be good and to be safe for everyone… and that’s exactly why I can’t stay. I must fix matters by putting a stop to those who mean to hurt our family. As soon as that task is done, I promise I will run home to you and remain forever.”

My daughter tried to force a smile through her disappointment. “I wish you didn’t have to go.”

“I wish I didn’t have to go either… but I do. I’m responsible for what happens to our pack and, more importantly, for what happens to you and Nehemiah. I love you both too much to put your lives in danger.”

“You staying here puts us in danger?”

I nodded. “More so than if I leave. Until our enemy is destroyed, we’re always in a degree of danger.”

“But especially you, right?” The question took me by surprise. It was for her I feared.

“Who told you that?”

“Father did.”

“He did? Well… I suppose.”

“In that case, you should stay here with us. Father and the others will protect you. They won’t let anyone hurt you, Momma.” My little girl looked so certain, so confident. I wished it were true. I hugged her tight with my free arm, sorry that I couldn’t validate her simple faith.

“Oh, Natasha, if only it worked that way. But the fact is, wherever I go danger follows, and I really don’t want our enemy to show up here. That’s why I can’t stay; it would be wrong to do that.”

“Oh.” I had deflated her only hope and felt the need to replace it with something.

“Listen, Natasha. I have a plan to trick our enemy and finish her. That’s what I’m leaving here to do. Once the deed is done, it will be the end of all this awfulness.”

“And then you’ll come home to stay?”

“Yes, then I’ll come home to stay.”

“I really hope your plan works, Momma.”

“Me too, Natasha. I hope so too.”

My baby boy made another loud squeak, seeking the attention he had lost. I lifted him up and helped his chubby legs attempt to stand. When his knees buckled, he laughed and danced excitedly. I sat him on my lap and made a cheery face, shaping my lips in the form of surprise. Nehemia opened and closed his mouth trying to copy me. Clinging to my side, Natasha watched us—mostly me—as we communicated with exaggerated facial expressions. The whole time I could feel her stare as she pondered something.

“What’s on your mind?” I finally asked, imaging several possible worries.

“Nothing,” she mumbled. A moment later, she timidly admitted, “People say I look like you.”

“They do?” I wondered if that bothered her.

“Yes, that’s what they say.”

“Huh.” I wasn’t sure how to respond, nor was I allowed to. My daughter spoke up right away, melting my heart.

“I think you’re beautiful, Momma.”

“Thank you. That’s a very kind thing to say, but I think you’re more beautiful.”

Natasha blushed, clearly pleased with the return compliment. “I guess it’s true then,” she decided. “We look just like each other.”

“Is that okay?”

I experienced a moment of pride when my little girl nodded most assuredly.

The afternoon rushed by while I played with my children. When Nehemiah began to fuss, Sarti cleverly distracted me with the chore of helping Natasha prepare lunch. Meanwhile, she ducked outside with the babe. It wasn’t until after three bowls of leafy herbs were topped with broken fruit and nuts that I realized Sarti had left to nurse my child, being sensitive enough to suckle him out of view. She had correctly assumed the sight would cause me hurt feelings. Upon their return, Nehemiah was bundled up, asleep in her arms.

I took him and placed his head in my lap while Sarti, Natasha, and I shared lunch. My daughter and her aunt recounted stories of pack life while I listened intently, learning how Natasha had lost three baby teeth in one day; how she could scale trees faster than her closest friends, Ronitta and Donshae; how she had learned to make decorated bracelets and to weave willow baskets but not as well as she could form clay pots with her fingers. It was bittersweet to hear that her father made up fairytales to which she fell asleep almost every night. My heart ached learning my child was a complete stranger to me. I knew next to nothing about the precious, influential moments that were shaping her.

It seemed too early when Kresh poked his head inside the tent. Nehemiah hadn’t awakened from his nap yet.

“How are my girls?” he asked. There was forced cheerfulness in his voice meant to hide a strain of sorrow.

“We’re fine,” his sister answered right off, an automatic but accurate reply. “How are things progressing?”

“Nearly done. The majority have left camp—all but a few who… uh, they went to put some important things to rest. They should be finishing up.”

“Oh. I see.” Sarti rose to her feet and brushed off her skirt, donning the same artificial smile as her brother. “So… how soon until we follow the others?”

“Soon. I don’t want the children to be far behind.”

“Certainly not.”

Sarti snatched up our empty wooden bowls and held them against her stomach. “I’ll go clean these. It will give you time alone.”

I watched her exchange places with Kresh, squeezing him tenderly on the arm in passing. Turning to us, he once again forced a cheery tone. I imagined the show was mostly for our daughter’s sake. Taking Natasha by both arms, he lifted her up and took her spot beside me. She seemed content to sit on his lap.

“So, how was your afternoon?”

“Nice,” I said, catching the melancholy in my own voice, “but not nearly long enough.”

Kresh looked hard at me. I could read a thousand comments on his mind he wouldn’t voice in front of young ears.

“I look forward to returning soon so Natasha can teach me how to weave a basket.”

“And I’ll show her how high I can climb a tree!” my daughter added excitedly. The gloom we were struggling to conceal seemed imperceptible to her. I was glad for that.

Natasha moved closer to her father’s ear but spoke loud enough for me to overhear. “Momma said when she comes back she’s going to stay forever. I want to make a necklace to give her when she comes home.”

“I think that’s a fine idea. I’m sure Sarti would love to help you make one.”

Natasha grinned at her father’s approval, but her eyes shot over, seeking mine as well. I smiled as wide as I could for my little girl who glowed with satisfaction in return. Kresh kissed me on the hair and squeezed my shoulders. I knew by his gesture that my time for pretending happiness had come to an end. The children needed to flee—to vanish before sunset.

Kresh placed Natasha on her feet and then stood, pulling me up in the process. I kept my napping son greedily close to my bosom; I feared Sarti would have to pry the babe out of my grasp. Standing against the wall of the tent, I watched our final minutes slip away in a waking dream. My husband rolled up the blankets—those that remained inside the shelter—and packed them into two backpacks. The gear was handed off to men I didn’t recognize but who respectfully gestured knowledge of my identity.

When it came time to part, I found it difficult to hide the tears. I hugged my children tight until Kresh distracted me with warm affection, a clever way of allowing him to transfer Nehemiah into his sister’s arms. She slipped my son into a sling used to carry him against her chest. With Natasha holding fast to Sarti’s hand, they started off, escorted by four strong young men, all in a hurry to catch up to those who had hiked out earlier. I watched their figures melt into the forest, listening until Natasha’s voice no longer carried to my ears.

[ READ CHAPTER SIX - CLICK HERE ]

Richelle E. Goodrich, Copyright 2016