Frostbound

Chapter 32

“It looks worse than it is,” Errata insisted. She’d wadded up some paper napkins she’d found in her knapsack and was pressing them against her head. “Scalp wounds bleed like crazy.”

They’d come to another tunnel junction. Talia looked both ways, her gun cupped in two hands. In the end, she’d frightened off the cat, but Baines had been right—it was too fast to get a clean shot. Not without risking Errata, who’d already been giving her all. Now the werecougar’s hazel eyes peered out of a mask of blood. The cat had ripped open her scalp badly enough that she hadn’t completely healed changing back to human form.

Good thing werebeasts didn’t smell like dinner, because she was starting to get hungry. “You look like you’re trying out for a role in a slasher flick.”

Errata rewadded the paper napkins, looking for a dry spot. “Harsh. Remind me not to take you shopping for bathing suits. My self-esteem wouldn’t survive it.”

“Actually, you’ve impressed me. Not everyone can fight.”

Errata gave a low laugh. “I have four older brothers.”

“That’d do it. Are you sure you don’t need to rest for a minute?”

“And risk a repeat visit from Whiskers? I don’t think so.”

When Errata fished her camera out again, Talia decided she had to be feeling okay, and kept moving. By now, they had to be near the spot with the hotel signs. She’d been hoping to meet up with Joe or Yaref, but no such luck.

“Sh!” Errata cocked her head, listening.

Talia strained her ears. Footsteps in the passageway. Silently, Talia got to her feet and slipped around the corner to see who was nearby.

She saw a man up ahead wearing a vest with the crossed-sword design. Max. What’s he doing by himself?

Errata was behind her. “Isn’t that your brother? The one who shot Perry?”

“Yeah. I need to talk to him.” He risked himself to save me.

“Are you sure he wants to talk to you?”

Her words sliced through Talia. “This might be the only chance I’ll ever get.”

“And after that?” Her words were cool.

Talia didn’t answer. Half of them might not make it home alive. She wasn’t going to make promises.

With vampire speed, she closed the distance between herself and her brother. When she was a few steps behind, she paced him, step for step, letting the emotion that jammed in her throat crest, and then drain away. She blinked hard, clearing her vision before she spoke.

“Max.”

Her brother wheeled, bringing his rifle to his shoulder with the speed of long practice. Then he fell back a step, his mouth falling open.

“Talia.” Her name came out in a croak. “Get out of here.”

“We have to talk. I’m still your sister. We played on the snow hill together. We sat at the same table every breakfast and dinner.” Until Dad effing stole my chair.

Max’s face twisted with fear. “Talia, for the love of God get out of here. If Dad finds you . . .”

Talia heard a scream, half-human, half-enraged feline. Errata! She whipped around, her gaze searching the tunnel. She couldn’t see the werecougar, but there were more figures wearing the Hunter symbol on their clothes. The Hunters were converging on the spot Talia had left Errata. They have her!

Perry’s face flashed through her mind. They’d show no mercy to a werebeast, and what they could do to a female was even worse.

Max pushed past her, running toward the group and leaving her alone. He wasn’t brave or foolhardy enough to be caught talking to the enemy, even if it was his sister. Damn him!

Talia took a deep breath, shifting her grip on the Airlite. She wasn’t leaving Errata at their mercy. She started running toward the Hunters, her mind scrabbling for a plan.

Hard hands grabbed her from behind. “What are you thinking?”

“What the hell!” Talia twisted around. An enormous vampire loomed there, wearing a leather jacket and a ferocious scowl. Where had he come from?

“If you don’t stop and think, they’ll have you, too,” he said grimly, his ice-blue eyes so pale they looked almost white in the gloom. “Come on.”

He dragged her down the tunnel, not stopping until they reached a hollow in the stonework where they could take cover.

“Who are you?”

“Darak.”

So this was the mysterious rogue from the Empire. “Aren’t you supposed to be fighting topside?”

“I did my bit there. I had a promise to keep about dragging your ass out of the fire. Now I know why. You’re a bloody cowboy.”

“Lore made you promise?”

“No. Michelle.”

A sick feeling burned her. He talks to ghosts. “Was she all right?”

“Yeah. And she loved you.” His voice had the finality of a slamming door.

Talia turned away, hiding the tears that choked her. “Thanks. I guess..”

He grunted.

They were close enough that Talia could count the men. There were four, including Max. She knew all of them by name. One had been her neighbor.

Another was her father. Tall and lean, his gray hair shaved close to his skull, Mikhail Rostov was definitely in command. He turned her way for an instant, and Talia caught sight of his face. Deep lines cut from his nose to the corners of his mouth, emphasizing his unbending expression. Waves of anger and longing sang through her. She wanted to smash that expression off his face, to make him bend. In an anguished part of her heart, she wanted him to hold her and tell her she’d been a good girl.

She’d killed Belenos, but just seeing her father was infinitely worse.

Cold sweat trickled down the small of her back. There would be no reconciliation. The only thing she could do was make sure that he didn’t hurt her friends. She hoped that meant capturing him, but it might mean more.

“Are you okay?” Darak asked, studying her face.

“Yes,” Talia said, hearing her voice shake. “I used to be one of them.”

Talia realized what she’d just said, and felt her whole body turn to ice. This is where he fights me, or we fight the Hunters together.

But Darak seemed undisturbed as a block of granite. “They’ll kill you. You know that, right?”

“Yeah. I’m a monster.”

He gave her a piercing look. “Only if you want to be. Being a vampire gives you power. How you use it is up to you.”

Talia couldn’t take her eyes from her father. “I want to pull their plug.”

The huge vampire made a satisfied noise. “Got a plan?”

“The Hunters will use Errata as a living shield. They’ll make their way to the exit assuming we’ll hang back, but they always kill their hostages at the last minute. The only chance we have of saving her is to get close enough to take out the Hunters before they know we’re there.”

Darak looked at her, a crease between his brows. “How do we do that?”

“Just get me one of their uniforms.”

“You sure about this?”

Frustrated, Talia snatched her sleeve, pulling it up, exposing the Hunter tattoo. “I know what I’m doing.”

“Okay, then.” Darak gave her a mock salute. “The killer babe is in charge.”

“Damned straight.”

“Stay here.” He slipped out of the hiding place, seeming to vanish once he reached the corridor. For such a huge man, that was impressive.

She leaned her head against the cold stone wall, simmering with impatience. Every memory of her long years of training flooded back to her. Planning what to do next took less than a minute. Most of the rescue would have to be improvisation, based on what she knew of the Hunters.

The hard part was turning on her family. It should have been easy, but right and wrong was for the brain. Going against the loyalties drummed into her from the cradle was going to break her heart.

But, sooner or later, she had to decide who Talia was. She wasn’t the soldier her father had left on the battlefield, or the monster he’d banished from his table—and she sure as hell wasn’t the scared girl who followed his orders even though her conscience screamed every time they went out on a hunt.

And none of that would mean a thing to him. Whatever she did next had to be done because it was right, not because it settled a score or proved a point. She would never change the way her father thought.

Darak returned with a Hunter’s vest, utility belt, and two rifles. “There were dead nearby,” he said tersely, thrusting the gear at her but keeping one rifle for himself. “I’ll lurk in the shadows. They didn’t have anything in my size.”

“You don’t need to come with me,” Talia said. “I can do this alone.”

“Sure you can,” he said, watching her pull the vest over her blood-spattered clothes. “Shut up and tell me what you’re going to do.”

A surge of gratitude loosened the knot of apprehension in her chest. “I catch up to them. The uniform will fool them for about a second, but hopefully that’s all I need.”

“For what?”

“Follow my lead.”

“I don’t like that plan.”

“Too bad.” Talia took off at a run, praying they weren’t too late.

The Hunters were only a few minutes away from the exit in the Castle alley. As Talia had predicted, her father had a gun to Errata’s head. Max walked next to him. There were two other Hunters following in the rear. She could see the red glint of hellhound eyes in the shadows up ahead, watching the Hunters as they passed, but the hounds were helpless to attack. Talia prayed the hounds recognized her as a friend, despite the borrowed gear.

Talia caught up to the uniformed men. Her father turned to acknowledge the troop joining his team, and in that split second Talia had to act. She gave a short, sharp whistle, the band’s signal for danger ahead.

As she’d hoped, every Hunter jerked their attention forward, away from her. Talia smashed the butt of her rifle into her old neighbor’s head, knocking him unconscious, then delivered a solid kick to the man on her other side.

Surprise was on her side. Talia wheeled and kicked the rifle out of her father’s hand and yanked Errata out of his grasp. “Go!” she yelled.

Errata sprinted for freedom.

Talia’s heart leaped with victory. She spun around, ready to follow, but her luck ran dry. She felt her gun hand wrenched behind her back, the sudden pain forcing her to drop her weapon. She swung her free arm, only to feel the slice of a blade so sharp it took a moment for the nerves to summon pain. A moment later, there was the cold kiss of a knife at her throat.

“How dare you show your face to me?”

The rough, hard edge of her father’s voice sawed through her, bringing a rush of confused emotions. Panic. Disbelief. Disappointment. Hatred. Somewhere under all that, the memory of loving him.

“Don’t kill me, Daddy.” She could see the tip of the knife from the corner of her eye. It was the big Bowie knife her father had always carried. Big enough to—eventually—take off her head.

“Please, Daddy.”

“I’m not your father.”

“No, don’t!” yelled Max.

She felt the knife bite into her skin. The sharp, hot pain wrenched a scream from her.

The news from aboveground was good. The queen was safe and under the watchful eyes of Clan Thanatos as well as her own armed guard.

While Lore’s hounds secured the dense south end of the tunnels, his Beta’s crew and the wolves of Pack Silvertail had tightened the other sides of the net. Many of Belenos’s vampires had been caught or killed. When the news came that Talia was safe and had killed their sire, the fight had gone out of them.

More hounds and wolves had arrived with the werebears. Baines had called them, and they arrived just in time to have a share in the final roundup. There was also a heavy police contingent aboveground, covering every exit they could find.

Lore was satisfied with the progress so far, but there were too many questions left unanswered. To begin with, where was Talia? No one had seen her or Errata since they’d been separated from Joe.

Instead, he found Mavritte leaning against a wall, her leathers running with blood. She was staring at the floor.

Lore studied her face. “Thank you for fighting so bravely today.”

“I am no coward.” She gave him a hard look. “I have not forgotten my challenge to you.”

“Even with everything that has happened tonight?”

“What has this to do with the pack? It is a war of vampires. Hellhound business has not been resolved.” She turned her face away, speaking so softly he barely heard her. “Though I see what you love in your vampire.”

That surprised him. “You do?”

“She killed her sire. She is a warrior without fear. But she is not one of us.”

“Does that matter so much?”

She looked sad and tired. “The pack leaders must put the pack before all. How can a vampire put the hounds first? It goes against nature.”

Lore was silent.

“Without a strong Alpha, there will be no future for us. No anything. The legends say there will be no young.”

“You speak of legends. Traditions. We live in a different world now.”

Mavritte poked him in the chest. She smelled of sweat and blood and gunpowder. “Do you not dream in prophecy? Do you not smell evil on the air? Are we not demon kin? You cannot believe what you want and ignore the rest.”

“I will not let tradition trample what I know in my soul to be right. And I will not fight you.”

“Then you can wage all the wars you like and remain a coward. It is the battle on the hearth that counts.” Mavritte turned away, contempt in her eyes. “If the home is not strong, the kingdom has no foundation to rest on. The Alpha must have the strongest house of all. You have no true mate. You have nothing.”

Lore was momentarily speechless.

Then they heard Talia’s shriek of pain.

Lore scrambled into the tunnel, morphing into hound form as he ran.

He looked first for Talia. She was down and bleeding from the neck and arm.

Errata stood to one side. She had a gun, but didn’t seem to know what to do with it.

One Hunter was down on the ground, but another, who was bleeding from the head, flew through the air. Darak lifted a third over his head like a sack of flour.

Lore had to get to Talia, but there was an obstacle. Two more Hunters—Talia’s brother and an older man—were wrestling on the floor and in his way. It looked like Max was trying to grapple for a knife. They both looked up to see Lore at the same time. In their surprise, the knife went skittering across the floor.

Lore gave a warning growl. The older one grabbed for a rifle that was lying on the ground. Mercury bullets. Bad news, because Lore’s strength was close to tapped out. The odds of pulling off that disappearing trick again tonight were low to none.

Rage slammed into him. He had to try. That was his mate wounded on the ground.

Kill. Protect. Lowering his massive bulk into a crouch, Lore bared huge, white teeth, his growl echoing like an earthquake down the tunnel. Someone screamed. Lore bounded forward, massive paws raised to trap and crush.

The older Hunter raised the rifle.

But Talia had lunged for the knife and thrown it a fraction of a second before, a look of deep anger in her eyes. He could still see the whirling blade, the thwopthwop of it as it spun through the air. It was the same moment as had been in his prophecy.

Lore twisted in the air, giving extra clearance for the knife’s path. The rifle fired. Lore had a moment of freefall as he waited for the tearing of the mercury bullets through his belly.

But they never did. He felt them skim by, a hot flick against his skin.

When he hit the ground, the knife had drawn a long, bloody slash down the older man’s arm. Lore landed with a clumsy thump and roll, coming to his feet in time to see the two men disappearing down the tunnel. Darak chased after them.

Talia was weeping, the harsh, racking sobs of heartbreak. Lore padded over to her. Her neck was bloody, but it wasn’t bleeding. There was a wound in her arm that was far worse.

He didn’t think it was the cut she was crying about.

Lore curled up on the ground, pushing his body against her thigh, and put his chin on her knee, peering up at her. Hellhounds weren’t known for their appeal, but he gave it his best doggy-soulful try.

She hiccupped. “Oh, stop it.”

He whined and licked her face, but just once.

She squeezed her eyes shut, burying her hands in his fur, kneading the ruff of his neck. It felt like heaven. “That was my father.”

A fresh bout of tears seized her. He melted back into his human form, and held her close against his chest.

“But I didn’t let him kill Errata,” she said. “I stopped him. I stopped my father.”