Sanctuary (Immortal Soulless Book 2) Page 22

  “I couldn’t see through the smoke, and the lights were out. Finding the key to the cage was a bit of trial and error.”

  He takes a few long, deep breaths. “I’m sorry I tried to stop you. You were right. I’d have been half suffocated before I got her out of there.” He squeezes my thigh, then lets go. “It’s hard to let go of control sometimes, especially if I feel like I’m supposed to—”

  I hold up a hand to stop him. “You have no duty to protect me, Silas.” I open my eyes slowly, almost dreamily. I can still feel him in me, strengthening me even after my exertion and healing. It feels like our powers are mingling within me. Maybe not making peace—the physical sensation becomes a little nauseating when I focus on it too much. But they’re working together.

  I wish I had any sense the same would happen between our species.

  “I appreciate what you said about thinking of me as a pack member. I would be proud to call you an ally. Maybe even a friend. But I don’t want you to feel responsible for me.”

  He shoves his hands in his pockets. “With packs, you’re either in or out,” he says as Irene’s door opens. She steps out in human form, dressed in comfortable-looking leggings and a long t-shirt. He looks back at her. “We don’t really have friends otherwise.”

  She looks him over, taking in his tall, broad form. She still looks like she’s itching for a fight, but is obviously rethinking that now.

  “Well, you’re going to have to be something to each other,” I tell them as I climb to my feet. I roll my left shoulder forward and flex my fingers. The arm is still stiff, but it will heal. “We all are. At least until this is over.”

  “You took me from them,” Irene accuses Silas, as though I didn’t speak at all.

  “Your pack came to save you,” he says. “The vampires thought they started the fire.”

  “In wolf form?” Irene shakes her head. “I don’t doubt they’ve been hanging around, waiting for word from me,” she says, crouching to rest her elbows on her thighs. She has to be exhausted. “They must have shown themselves when the fire started.”

  “They held the other vampires back so we could come in to rescue you,” he tells her.

  Irene buries her face in her hands.

  “If we’d let you go back to them, their efforts would have been for nothing,” I add. “Erica and Royce would have shot as soon as they saw you. With you safe, maybe we can get this thing figured out before the troops arrive.”

  Irene looks up. “Troops?”

  “More vampires,” Silas says softly. “They’ve decided we’re more trouble than we’re worth.”

  Irene looks to me.

  “I’m sorry,” I tell her. “I tried to figure this thing out. If I’d been able to turn someone in or say who was killing humans, it might have been enough to save the rest of you. It wouldn’t have made anything else better, but…”

  “But now they want us all dead,” she says, voice flat. She stands and straightens her shoulders. “How much time do we have?”

  “Maybe none,” I say, hating the resignation in my voice. “Erica and Royce probably came here prepared to call for mass executions. They have to do everything by the book, though, and I’ve been getting in the way. They have justification now. They’ll claim your pack burned the complex, that they’re behind the killings.”

  “How long will it take for the others to get here?” she asks.

  “I don’t know. A few hours at most. Less if Royce and Erica called them in as soon as the fire started.”

  She looks up at the moon. Its light makes her look younger. Stronger. “I have to save my pack,” she says. “We’re not responsible for the killings, but I know who is.”

  “Joseph?” Silas asks.

  Irene nods. “I caught a whiff of his scent in the forest where we should have found the carcass. I couldn’t track him, though. Not with that rain coming down, washing everything away.”

  “We’d already assumed he’d framed your pack,” Silas says quietly. “I think he might have started the fire, too. Covering his tracks. Stripping your pack’s protections by killing you and burying anything you knew about him.”

  Irene raises a greying eyebrow at him. “Bold accusations.”

  “I’m tired of protecting him,” Silas says. He hangs his head. “I wish I’d done things differently. Stood up to him and those who think like him instead of taking off and turning my back on the problem. I thought it was the right thing, but look where it’s got us.” He looks up again, meeting her eyes for the first time since he set her down back in the woods. “I want to help you save your pack, if you’ll trust me. I know I haven’t earned it.”

  Her lips tighten. “I want to tell you to piss off. But I can’t afford to. If my pack has scattered, I need whatever help I can get. I only hope you’re sincere.” She turns to me. “What about you, vampire? I don’t know that I can trust you any more than I can him. You both have loyalties that conflict with protecting my pack. Are you willing to turn your back on yours, as well?”

  I swallow hard. There’s a lump in my throat. “I can’t be anything other than what I am,” I tell her. “My clan is all I have. I can’t walk away from it. But tonight, my clan is wrong. They’re making a mistake. I want to make things right before it’s too late, even if it costs me my position and reputation.”

  It suddenly occurs to me how much ammunition Erica and Royce have against me now. The idea of anyone starting a fire while in wolf form is ridiculous.

  It would make much more sense to accuse me.

  “I don’t think you have much to lose in terms of reputation or position,” Silas observes, “given the fact that they locked you up and just tried to shoot you when you went in after Irene.”

  I shrug. “So I’m fucked either way. Might as well do some good while I can, right?” I try to sound calm and confident, like it doesn’t matter, but inside I’m shaking. Daniel’s not going to be able to cover for me this time, if he even wants to after he finds out what I’ve done. They might not kick me out of Maelstrom, but I’ll be no better off than Irene was when she was part of Joseph’s pack.

  Bottom of the heap. Disrespected. Unprotected, offered the dregs to feed on, ignored or attacked. Or worse, they’ll judge me as a traitor and I’ll be banished and hunted when I go rogue.

  My chest tightens. I don’t care. Nothing is going to get better for anyone if I turn away now.

  “I want to help you,” I tell her. “But your word isn’t going to be enough. If we’re going to prove that Joseph is behind this, that your pack is innocent and should be allowed to live—and yours, too,” I add, looking to Silas, “we need evidence. We need proof that he framed you, a confession, something.”

  “Very well,” Irene says, her voice steely. She offers Silas a rueful smile. “Sounds like we’re heading home, kid. We’ve got a caribou carcass to locate.”

  He offers a hand, and she shakes it.

  “We see this through to the end,” he says, and I shiver.

  If I still prayed, I’d be asking for a happy ending right now. But no one is listening to me.

  I offer my hand to both of them. Silas seems reluctant to release me, but I pull away. My skin feels like ice without his touch warming me.

  A cloud passes over the moon, darkening the sky as we enter the forest again.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  We creep through the woods, nearly silent as we approach Joseph’s cabin. As far as Silas knows, his grandfather took his advice and sent his pack away, but he looks on edge. Both he and Irene seem to be scenting the air, though both have chosen to remain in human form.

  Though we pause frequently to listen, there’s nothing but the wind in the trees and the soft breathing of my companions.

  Silas leads us up the side of the hill, and we approach Joseph’s big cabin from the rear.

  “How are we going to find it?” I ask.

  “We’ll start at the cabin,” he says. “Wasting good meat would be as offensive to Joseph as
anything any of us have done to him. He wouldn’t have disposed of it far from here unless he was scared. And I didn’t catch a hint of that on him last time we spoke.” He looks down the hill, toward the faint lantern light that penetrates the darkness when the wind blows the branches aside. “I still can’t believe he’s behind this. I mean, he’s not perfect. But he’s always wanted what was best for his pack, and this isn’t it.” His frown, which has been a continuous fixture on his face since we left the compound, deepens. “It could be a rogue wolf after all, right? I could have misread him.”

  “Anything is possible,” I tell him.

  He doesn’t seem comforted.

  Loyalty can be a dangerous thing. I’ve been jealous of what the werewolves have in their packs, their deep relationships, their knowledge that they’ll always have their alpha’s protection and their packmates’ strength behind them. But blind loyalty is another thing entirely, dangerous even to vampires. Not so long ago, unquestioning trust in Maelstrom’s elders led to one of them getting away with murder for years because no one would consider the idea that she might be involved with rogue behaviour. And now Silas doesn’t want to believe that his grandfather, once his alpha, a man who hurt him, rejected him, maybe hates him, could possibly be a killer.

  Maybe there is something to be said for relying on oneself and no one else.

  I smell it before they do. The carcass is strung up in a tree behind the cabin, its hide torn and bloodied by the wolves who killed it. It’s small for a caribou, sickly. Still, not a treat the female pack would have been likely to pass up when they were newly turned, full of energy, and filled with the power of the full moon.

  Even Irene didn’t seem to have questioned this miraculous gift until the vampires showed up.

  Silas’ jaw tightens as he trails a finger down one of the gaping wounds. “What now?”

  We look at each other but remain silent, none of us willing to speak the challenge aloud.

  Erica and Royce won’t consider any of us a credible witness. Silas has the worst reputation of any of the alphas, a known trickster and a liar who’s likely to do anything to stir up trouble—and not known for having a good relationship with Joseph. Irene is already under suspicion of leading the pack that’s killed people and burned the complex down, and this carcass is all the evidence we have otherwise. A carcass Joseph’s own pack could have brought down, for all we can prove otherwise.

  And me… Well, here I am working with two shifty werewolves, running from my own kind after spending the past month disobeying direct orders from a superior who couldn’t be arsed to do his job. A vampire doesn’t get listened to just because of what she is. She has to earn it.

  And I certainly haven’t.

  Paul was right after all. We need to let the werewolves handle this themselves. I just hope they haven’t run out of time.

  “I’ll talk to Joseph,” Silas says. “He’s been listening to me. I think he’s mellowed where I’m concerned.”

  Irene shrugs. “Better than me. He’d kill me as soon as look at me, and I very much doubt that’s changed. He’s just trying to get someone else to do it now.” There’s no hurt in her voice, just as there was no surprise in her expression when we found the carcass. She’s known Joseph’s opinion of her for decades. “I’ll come with you, though,” she adds. “We don’t know who he’s got in there with him, and once he knows you’ve figured him out, you could be in danger.”

  “I’m with you, too,” I tell him. “Strength in numbers, and I can explain how things are with the vampires now.” I pause. It’s not right. Joseph might not be a criminal mastermind, but he’s not stupid. Not like some vampires would like to think all werewolves are. I can’t wrap my mind around the idea of him allowing these killings—or doing it himself—knowing that it would bring the vampires down hard on all of them.

  Unless framing the females was the plan all along, and he was just building up the body count. But still…

  “Aviva?” Silas asks. “Are you—”

  He doesn’t get to finish the question. A wolf lopes toward us, running too hard to make any attempt at stealth. I’m instantly on edge, ready for a fight, but Irene steps forward and crouches, arms open and welcoming.

  “What have they done?” she whispers.

  Violet’s old scars don’t seem to be bothering her, but she has more than enough to deal with now. Her left ear has been nearly obliterated, torn apart by what I expect was a bullet aimed at a far deadlier target. Blood soaks the fur on the side of her head and stains her teeth, and another long wound marks her shoulder just below the old scars.

  If it was a silver bullet, it’s a miracle she’s walking. As I’ve read it, silver burns their skin and keeps them from healing. She must be in agony.

  “Can you change?” Irene asks, and Violet shakes her head. She lets out a long, demanding whine.

  “Are the vampires coming?” Irene asks, and violet nods. “How many vehicles?”

  Violet hangs her head, then pats the ground in front of her six times.

  A chill that has little to do with the night air pulls goosebumps up on my arms. The troops have arrived, and they’re on their way up.

  Irene’s eyes turn steely. “What about the others? Where is my pack? All dead?”

  Violet shakes her head hard, but lets out a low, sorrowful whine.

  I turn toward Joseph’s back door, teeth bared. It’s his fault any of them are dead. This is what he wanted, after all—to see the females punished.

  Silas stalks up onto the deck and opens the back door, letting it swing wide, then leads us into a dark hallway. All of the doors along it are closed, which only eases my nerves a little. Every one of my perceptions is on high alert. I feel Silas beside me, and my power responds to him. To his blood. The scent of burning pine reaches me, accompanied by the crackle of a fire that’s far more civilized than the one we left behind at the compound. Still, I flinch, and phantom pain flashes over my skin.

  I’m not healed yet.

  It doesn’t matter. This has to happen now, or we lose everything.

  Joseph sits in a big armchair next to the roaring fire in a big stone fireplace. The sitting room is massive, taking up one end of the cabin, with plenty of seating for a large pack. He wears a robe, as Irene did when she prepared for her change. I glance at my companions, restricted in their clothing, and hope they’re as strong in this form as they seem to be as wolves.

  Violet’s lips curl, revealing bloodstained teeth, but she remains silent.

  Silas puts a hand on my arm and reaches out with the other to hold Irene back.

  The gesture is unnecessary. We’ve all seen the gun in Joseph’s lap.

  He picks it up, slowly and calmly, and points it at Irene’s chest.

  “Stay,” he orders.

  Headlights flash in the window as a vehicle enters the clearing outside.

  “Joseph, listen to me,” I tell him. “The other vampires are coming. They’re prepared to exterminate all of you because you’ve threatened to expose our world. They’re not going to spare you.”

  “Aren’t you a dear for warning me,” he says. “Again.”

  Irene glances at me suspiciously, but says nothing.

  “But I have a feeling everything will turn out just fine,” he adds as a door slams outside. “Once I’ve stopped the killers—and I have their pack leader here—peace will be restored. The vampires will see what a capable alpha can do.” He gives Silas a withering glance. “They’ll release us. Let us be, once the threat is eliminated.”

  He cocks the pistol.

  “That will never happen,” I tell him, speaking calmly and slowly. He’s clearly not in his right mind.

  The door bursts open and Paul enters the cabin, his own gun drawn.

  It’s the first time I’ve ever been glad to see him.

  “Paul, the females aren’t guilty,” I say, assuming that he’s been filled in already on what’s been happening. “Joseph framed them, brought a caribou in f
or them to hunt so it would be obvious that they’d killed, then stole it so the human body would be the only explanation. We found the caribou outside.”

  Paul scowls. “That so, Joseph?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “God damn werewolves can’t do anything right,” he says.

  My entire body goes cold as Paul points his gun at my head.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  I can’t read Paul’s expression. Can’t look away from the dark interior of the gun barrel.

  “I told you to back off,” he says. There’s a hard edge to his voice. I hear anger, but when I force my gaze to meet his for a second, I see panic there, too.

  “Should I thank you for that?” I ask. Though the light of the fire is still hurting my skin, a chill has come over me. I feel like my face is frozen as I try to form words. “I didn’t realize you were trying to warn me off because you were involved in all of this.”

  He bares his clenched fangs. “You weren’t smart enough to listen. This isn’t on me anymore.”

  “You can’t let her live, Paul,” Joseph says from his spot by the fire. “Or whatever it is your sort do. She’ll—”

  “Shut up,” Paul orders, and Joseph bares his teeth at him. It’s eerie, seeing canine expressions on human faces, and for a moment it’s as though the wolf part of his spirit inhabits his body. “I know what I have to do.”

  But he doesn’t shoot. Instead he lowers the gun so that it’s pointed at my chest. Still a bad place for me, especially if he’s got silver bullets in there. They’re not quite as dangerous to us as they are to werewolves, but they can do serious damage. Silver lodged in my body would sap my strength, preventing my escape or any kind of healing.

  Had he decided to shoot at my skull, it likely would have been the end of me. I’m fast, but there’s no way I can outrun a bullet.

  Silas takes a step closer to me. Paul shoots him a warning look, then narrows his eyes as they lock on the twin wounds on Silas’ throat. “The hell is that?”

  I don’t answer. I can’t.