After blowing out an incoherent sound that I assume was words, he gestures again for me to follow. I shrug and do it. I don’t see any reason not to, he’s proven himself to be a half-decent human who isn’t out to hurt me, and a voice at the back of my mind is telling me this is how I get close to her. As soon as he knows I’m with him, he turns on his heel, and we head back to Sierra.
“Help me ... here to here,” he motions wheezily when we get
in her room, from her bed to the new one he wheeled over. His voice is low and labored, and he’s struggling to get sound out. He’s definitely been running about like a maniac before coming down here, and I can feel his heart rate pulsing rapidly in the air. He’s composing himself as he works, but it’s obvious he’s not in the best physical shape.
I look at our sleeping beauty, surprised by how unwell she looks and a lot less ethereal. Sierra, up close, looks like a porcelain doll, so silently still and unresponsive, with flushed, rosy cheeks on a milky whiteness. Dark lashes fan her face under smooth dark brows, and I can immediately see Colton in her features. I don’t argue but take her upper arms under her armpits as firmly as possible without hurting her and lift her over while he gets her legs.
She’s light, surprisingly so, nothing to her, and painfully thin as the blankets pull away, and I see her body under her flimsy medical gown. Her skin is almost translucent from lack of sunlight, yet she seems so very warm and alive, and I’m convinced she will open her eyes at any moment. It’s unnerving, and I can’t stop staring at her face as we place her on the new bed, brushing her dark hair from her face as he tends to her limbs and tubes and settles her neatly.
“What are we doing?” I whisper it back, keeping my voice hushed as it’s pretty apparent with the lack of helpers he’s not meant to be doing this. As soon as he fully arranges her on the gurney, he takes a moment to inhale, calm his breathing by pressing a hand to his chest, and points at the door.
“We’re taking her and leaving. I drugged … fixed … phew …” He struggles, wiping his brow with the back of his hand and takes another exaggerated breath; annoying me to the point of getting frustrated with his lack of vocabulary, and he tries again. I raise my brows at him and throw a ‘and?’ look his way. “I drugged dinner. We don’t have much time. A few hours at the most.” He wheezes and goes back to picking up tubes and arranging them around her hurriedly.
“You did what?” I gawp at him, this unassuming feeble little doctor who wouldn’t stand up to Deacon earlier, and now it registers how quiet this place is when he’s making so much noise with carts and beds and no one’s appeared. My face pales as my blood drains away, and my brain catches up with exactly what’s happening.
He nods at the bay outside her room and motions to start pulling her bed. I’m not dreaming, and we are, in fact, staging a bust out and a heist, in that Sierra is the gold, and we’re taking it. I swallow hard, pull myself together, and throw a glance up at the roof and a silent ‘Thank you.’ to the Fates. They answered my prayers.
I do as he motions, tugging backward out the door with all my might to get it rolling as he throws machines and such almost on top of her as we move. He picks up and dumps more items on the bed as we pass a couple of free-standing trolleys, pulling the saline drip and the bag feeding her fluids with him and its trolley at the end while stretching all her tubes almost taut.
“I drugged the soup and pretended to eat in the canteen to watch that they did; we always eat together. I had to wait for them all to pass out. To the truck over there.” He nods towards the truck, and I pull the bed and aim for it, gaining speed as we go. He grabs the medical trolley in passing to tug behind him, making it awkward for him to keep hold of the bed, and I end up pulling it alone as he deals with that and the other wheeled necessities he’s hauling, dropping things as he does so.
If this is an escape, it’s a haphazard one, and he’s the worst kind of saving hero ever. He’s making enough noise to wake the dead, and I’m not convinced he won’t keel over and have a heart attack with how unfit he is. He’s puffing and heaving and losing more than half his body weight in sweat; I think he might need to lie down. Humans really are a weak race.
“How are we meant to get out of here? We’re on the lowest floor, and the elevator is that way?” I nod with my head in the direction we came from, a growing tight knot of anxiety that maybe his plan is not the best. He waves at the trucks again, reminding me of their presence, but I’m not sure how they will help down here.
“The one on the end is a medical truck, and that platform lifts to the ground above. It’s how we store them and transport things in and out.”
As soon as he says it, I spin my head, eyeing the last green military truck that looks like its half-brother was a tank, and see the gears of the platform on the space behind it. The poles and hydraulics lining the steel wall in shadow and look up into a cavernous space that opens over your head when you get up close to them. I couldn’t see it from my room, but this space goes up some hundred or more feet to a set of closed metal doors on the top ceiling.
“And then what? We drive around until she wakes up?” I gasp, bumping the bed onto the platform's edge, still helping while dissecting this absurdity, and he shoves it fully. We come side by side with the truck we are aiming for, and he motions for me to keep it going to the rear. I eye him warily, real tension ripping through me as panic rears its ugly head at his lack of a proper plan.
“Yes, sounds right. She’s been in a coma for eight years—we need time. I need to wake her slowly, and even then, I don’t know what state she will be in, physically or mentally. All I know is we can’t stay here and do that without getting caught, and I owe her. I won’t fail my friend again!” He has regained some of his equilibrium and leaves the bed with me to run to a metal cabinet on the wall that houses keys and scoops up a set, coming back to open the truck and motioning to bring the bed around.
“So, what you’re saying is, there’s no plan beyond getting out?” It’s a dry, unamused response, and I stare at him as everything inside me grips tight. I have to swallow the rising panic, and he half-heartedly shrugs at me.
“I’m a doctor, not a masked villain who kidnaps people for a living. I figured your Fates would somehow ... I don’t know ... help! I mean, you came and ... you’re here!”
“Oh, my God!” It’s the only response I have, as words fail me. I bite down on my lower lip and try to focus everything on helping him and not on the fact that I have no goddamn idea what we’re meant to do after we get out. The guards won’t sleep forever, and they will come after us. At speed, with guns, and lots of them. And inform Juan.
We get to work using the ramps inside the truck to get the bed and trolley in, and he braces them in place with special metal clamps, hanging her saline bag on a hook coming from the interior wall and pushing the mobile one into a corner and ties it down. He pushes the devices into clamps, clips them along the wall parallel to her bed, and settles everything free-standing into holders or ties them in place expertly. Making light work of it, as I can only stand and frantically race a million ideas through my head about what we’re going to do.
“I have a cabin, my home when I’m not here. We should go there and try to wake her. They’ll track us, but we have a good head start, and I don’t know if we can lose them. No one knows about my cabin.” It’s a weird look, a half ‘happy he came up with a plan’ mixed with a heavy dose of ‘please tell me that’s a smart idea’ look. I can only shake my head and stare.
He’s not thinking this through or envisioning how well a wolf can track or how much faster they can be on foot when needed. They won’t just dawdle when they find us gone, they will come tearing after us like demons on the warpath, and Juan will, too, with his four crazy, loyal sub packs, who annihilated my entire bloodline and got away with it. has no idea what I’m talking about..
“That won’t work. You have no idea how well they can hunt
us. And as for Sierra, if Juan killed people to keep his dirty secrets silent, he’s going to send a tsunami after her to make sure we don’t wake her up.” I point out, tucking Sierra’s blankets tight to hold her neatly while he applies straps over her body to keep her in place. All I can do is keep helping, even if nausea almost strangles me with so many possibilities and ways to die at Juan’s hands.
“Well, do you have a better idea? We need to protect her until she wakes; we need to find a place we can fortify. I don’t know people outside of these walls. I can’t fight or shoot an army of wolves.”
No place can be fortified against a pack of angry Lycans. Especially not when all you have is a bound wolf who can’t use her gifts unless against a serious threat, an aging, unfit human doctor, and a sleeping witch. We are so screwed.
I wrack my brains trying to think of a million places I passed these past weeks alone and how none of them would be any good to hide in. Besides, no amount of hiding will stop them from tracking us. It was different when I ran. I was solitary, and only Colton had reason to follow. I also had a couple of days’ head start to let my scent fade to nothing.
Colton! Of course!!
I can’t believe how stupid I am not to see the most obvious answer to this question. Of course, the Fates would bring me full circle and back to him. They’ve never stopped tormenting me mentally when it comes to that boy, making sure I couldn’t forget him even if I wanted to. This is why—this moment of need.
Colton’s mom. Colton has an undying love for her and a need to find her. He also has a sub pack and some fierce ass wolves who would do anything for him—one of the most aggressive in the valley. Colton is our protection, and I just need to get outside to link him so he knows I need him. We need him.
“Yes, I do. I have her son and his pack, and I know he won’t leave me to fight this alone if I tell him I have his mom.” He won’t fail her; he’s been looking for her. I know his heart, and it’s not like Juan’s.
“You can trust him? Even after ten years with his father?” He flashes me a wary look, and I nod with no hint of hesitation. I know why he would query it, assuming under his father’s guidance that he might have twisted his son into a mini clone all these years, but Colton is far stronger than I ever gave him credit for. He is his own mind, and he disagrees with how Juan hurts his people.
“Colton won’t let me down. If he knows I need him, that she needs him, he’ll come. I do not doubt this. We’re linked; it’s not hard to find him.” Unless the Fates took that from me when he marked Carmen, I guess I will find that out. I don’t think they would be so cruel in taking away something like that when I need to use it to get Sierra out of this place in one piece. In all of this, the Fates have been trying to address the balance and bring us back to what Juan destroyed.
“Okay, once we get free of the building, you should be able to use your gifts. So, I tell you where we are and where we are going, and he can help. Plan? Yes, I think so. I don’t fancy dying tonight, so we better make it snappy.” He’s losing his adrenaline rush, his panic panting, and instead seems in the ‘regret and what have I done, but to hell with it’ mode.
He ushers me to the front of the truck, pulling the doors shut behind us, and locks them in place from the inside. Without crouching, I can walk straight through the dark confines of the small space to the front seats and sit down on the passenger side with a quizzical look aimed right at him as he gets settled in the driver’s seat.
“How do we go up, if we’re in here?” I point out, assuming he forgot the minor detail we’re underground, but he picks up a very heavy-duty looking radio device from the dash and waves it at me.
“This is a very high-tech and expensive facility. They like remotes. Boy toys.” He presses a button in the center of the military green controller, and I almost have a heart attack when the entire platform shunts into motion, jerking us harshly, and lifts. We slowly start to raise and leave the bay level behind, not just this truck, but with all three on the whole floor.
This is when my panic sets in, and nerves get the better of me as I realize our escape will probably go down in history as the worst attempt ever.
It's louder than hell. Crunching, groaning, and echoing around us like crazy, probably scaring off all the wildlife above ground in a three-mile radius. I cover my ears, cringing, and recoiling into my seat, and have to resist the urge to shut my eyes in the hope this is a bad dream. I hope to God he was right about knocking those guards out; otherwise, they will know we are running away.
“Once we get up there and out into the open, the building no longer has any bind over you. The walls work on some sort of inbuilt frequency that’s impossible for us to hear, but it doesn’t work out there. It has to surround you, you see.” He yells over the noise, telling me facts about something I currently couldn’t care less about, but it hits a nerve, and I sit up, blinking as my attention piques.
“A frequency?” I turn to him, startled. A memory from before tingles in my brain, and I don’t know why that’s important, but I feel it should be. My moment of fear dissipates when suspicion starts hiking up inside me.
“Yes, years of research have shown that certain frequencies alone are some of the biggest weapons against your kind’s gifts. Truly fascinating. We stumbled upon it when looking at the
the ability of some to emit ultrasonic sounds as a weapon.”
That’s it—the weapon. The one the vampires used to attack the home was frequency-based, too. I blink at him, not sure if I am piecing it together right or if I’m way off. The doc is off on a nervous tangent, babbling away like a runaway cart as a reaction to stress, I guess, and I have to butt in on the meticulous details of frequency being used to detain and disable my species.
“Did Juan ever use this facility to make any sort of small portable isolation tank that throws out the frequency instead of putting it in the walls?” I don’t know how that would work, seeing as they almost killed me too and in turn, would have killed Colton, but it seems a little too coincidental that this is how an isolation tank is made. Clutching at straws as I try to fit the puzzle pieces that I’m sure belong together.
“No, my dear. However, he sold the research a few years ago, claiming it was a profitable but harmless discovery.” He casts me a confused look, and I can tell he has no idea what I’m talking about.
“Harmless? The vampires attacked our mountain using a frequency to disable us all from turning. I almost died because of that stupid black box, and if Colton hadn’t …” I shudder at the memories, warmed slightly by the notion that Colton is where I’m heading once more, and even though it’s stupid and I should hate him, there’s a tiny ray of hope inside me, an aching to go back to him. My foolish weakness is kicking in, and finally, after weeks of being heavy and hurt, it’s raising a tiny little beam of sunshine in my dark days.
“It was turned into a weapon … by vampires? I thought their kind were driven underground long ago and no longer a threat. Forgive me, my dear; we don’t get any kind of news here.” He seems clueless, and the shock evident on his face, eyes wide, mouth gaping slightly as he takes that in and looks out of the window in front of us as he wraps his head around it, resting his hands on the wheel of the truck and shaking his head so very slightly.
“A month back, give or take, maybe longer now. I don’t know. I lost track. They attacked out of the blue and sent the mountain into chaos. A war is coming, and the wolves are all being dragged back to the mountain for Juan to control.” I sink back in my seat and watch as we climb the last few feet. Climbing the darkness while surrounded by eerie tones of groaning and grinding, I try not to overthink how high we are on this rickety-sounding platform. The roof begins to open, and the dull gray of an ending day shows through the cracks and makes me aware I’m about to taste fresh air once more. The urge to leap out and feel it on my skin distracts me, and I turn to face the now silent doctor instead.
“Using a device not too dissimilar to what we created? And they attacked Juan’s mountain and his people.” He mumbles more to himself than me, and it seems he did not know. I can almost taste the suspicion in his tone as he, too, concludes as I did but realize it’s stupid, and I’m letting paranoia and hate cloud my judgment.
“Yeah, but if you think Juan had something to do with it, then, one, we hate vampires, so no. It’s unlikely he would coerce with them, and two, Colton saved me when I was almost toast. If I died, then Juan would have lost his son and heir, and no, that’s just no. I don’t care what kind of monster he is; he puts Colton on a pedestal and always talks about his ruling one day. He wouldn’t let his son die. No matter what. I believe his legacy is the most important thing next to being king of all he sees. He only has one son.”
“But hear me out. If Colton died, then Juan would have had reason to tie up the people in his control and use the attack to rally the wolves to unite as a pack. If he fabricated a war or even gave them the means to start one, it all plays into what he wants to be—the prophecy. Uniting the packs against war and thus forcing his position to fulfill what the prophecy wanted. A wolf to reign over the people. He’s still so obsessed that it should be him!”
My blood runs cold, and, as crazy as it sounds, it starts to fall into place. He has a point, and yes, Colton dying would push those loyal to Colton to rally with Juan in avenging his death. A common enemy is a great way to instill fear and make the people look to a leader to save them. Something doesn’t sit right with it, though, and I’m trying to decipher it.
“You think he enabled the vampires and prompted them to hit the orphanage hoping Colton would die when I did? As a catalyst to get the people under control and mount an arsenal.”
I’m instantly nauseous, my skin prickling with goosebumps, and my breathing shallow as I try to swallow all this down. Even for Juan, it seems insane, but then he culled an entire bloodline for his chance at taking a crown. The doc nods his head, looking up as our freedom comes into view with an increase in grinding and crunching in the mechanics, and he starts the engine with the turn of a key. The truck roars into life and vibrates through the seat under me as I reach around and pull on my seat belt. So eager to get out of here, I’m almost bouncing in my chair with nerves.
“He sedated his mate and left her to rot. You tell me if killing his son to manipulate an outcome is something he would do?”
“He went to war against them and lost so many of his people. He hates the vampires with a passion.” It makes no sense. He wouldn’t willingly negotiate with them, but it does make sense that he didn’t care who he sold the research to, and maybe it came their way via another avenue. Perhaps the vampires took it or bought it from whomever Juan sold it to. There’s something just not there that I feel I should see, and it’s leaving a hole big enough to cast serious doubt, as much as I want to tar him with that brush.
“A war against people that should never have happened. Lycans and vampires used to dwell in peace not so long ago.” He confuses me with a ludicrous statement, and I frown his way, half snorting at his gross misinformation.
“No, they didn’t. I don’t know who told you that story, but I can assure you, we’ve been mortal enemies since the dawn of creation. We were never peaceful allies.” They taught us that in school and in my life, I have never heard any other version. It’s ludicrous to imagine our two species living on the same lands and not tearing their throats out.
“No, my dear, that’s not true. Sierra was very good at her history and very vivid in her telling. Her people, the witches as her mother was, predate the first of your kind. They tell the stories amongst their own.” He lifts his brows in a paternal manner, nodding towards me as though he is one hundred percent certain in this, and I can’t grasp it. It’s all they ever taught us; vampires are the enemy and always have been.
“So, what are you telling me? We used to be friends? Had morning coffee and bake sales together?” I almost laugh at that, sarcasm kicking in, and as we finally hit the upper ground, he throws the truck in gear and reverses at speed right off the platform and then backs us into a clearing in the middle of the dusky forest we find ourselves back in. We’re already outside the compound, further than the dirt road that came up to the fence, and I realize we are a fair bit from that completely. Underground must spread wider than I figured it did, and he hits the makeshift road and puts his foot to the gas, heading out and switching on headlights to illuminate where we’re going. The sun has not yet set, but the forest is gray and shadowy, and I have to cling onto my seat as I bounce around on the rough terrain, trees hitting the windshield and roof as we skim under low branches.
I cast a glance behind us to check on Sierra, and although the insides of the truck are rocking and bouncing around like mad, she is secured, and her machines are still beeping away, all the tubes swinging wildly. She seems okay.
“The Lycans were the daylight guardians of the vampires and, in turn, the vampires protected wolf lairs in the darkest hours. They were created to complement and protect each other, not war and fighting. It’s why you’re almost matched in power and gift. Each with a special, unique gift, of course, but neither meant to be used against one another. A peaceable arrangement born at conception, between light walkers and dark, both with different needs and not even a shared food source, so there is no reason to feud. Your kinds were from the same lands, and some even procreated. A bite from either side can kill the other, so it’s not exactly smart to rage fights with an enemy who only hints at your demise every time.”
I return to facing his side profile as he watches the road closely and maneuvers around fallen logs and debris, focusing all my disbelief on the side of his head.
“Procreated? Now I know you’re insane, and you need to up your meds, Doc. A vampire and a wolf ... had babies? Nah, now I know you’re high. That’s not a thing; there is no such thing. We’re enemies and always have been.” It’s a half-laugh, shaking my head in humor and disbelief as I turn in my seat to face the fast flyby of the forest, entirely convinced he has a screw loose somewhere.
He throws me an alarmed look that I catch from the corner of my eye, frowning and screwing up his face like I’m the crazy one, and almost swerves us into a tree before looking back and saving us the near-death impact. That makes me jump, and I snap my eyes at him fiercely as if to say ‘watch where you’re driving’ while gasping and panting for breath after that near miss. My stomach is now lodged in my throat, and I brace my legs against the dash and push myself back in the seat, trying to calm down. My wolf hasn’t yet figured out she can come out to play now we are free of the facility, but another fright like that, and she won’t hesitate. So tired of shredding and losing clothes, and it would be awkward sitting naked with this man.
“Yes, Alora. It’s hard to digest, and as I pointed out in Colton’s case, crossbreeding is not always successful given your masterful DNA and its ability to heal, much like the vampires can, but how can you disbelieve when you are sitting here, the very proof of that union? Your own genetics are waving their hands at you and saying, ‘Here I am.’” He looks at me as though I’m being completely preposterous, and his words are like a punch in the gut. Spinning me to him, eyes gawping wide at what he said.
“What?!?!” that’s not the response I expected from him, and I blink at him, my mouth open, and I frown intensely. “I thought you said I was witch and wolf.” I let it out slowly, precisely, as I remind him of how ridiculous what he’s saying is.
“No, my dear, I said you were a hybrid. Assuming your mother was a perfect half and half without knowing her history, of course, but it was very clear from your turning what you are. You’re white. I guess that witches generally make black wolves, like a kind of racial thing. You know, like humans - where a dark-skinned Latino and white makes mixed race, and then a white and white human makes white ... add in a splash of color, and their baby’s shades are wonderfully diverse. Vampires, however, lack of sun and being the undead, fascinating in biology by the way, they make white. Interestingly, though, it's always the prominent characteristic in all hybrids where wolf DNA is present. Amazing, strong genetics the wolves have. And in some rare instances, where the vampire gene is equally strong but still of no match to that powerful beast, the babies are lucky enough, gifted enough, down the generational tree, to have red eyes. Remarkable.” He’s way too pleased with his storytelling, and the utter joy on his face only heightens my horror.
I don’t know if my mind leaves my body completely or if shock and numbness knock me for six, but I swear, I have an out-of-body experience and get so close to passing out as I just stare at him, blankly, deadpan, not even remotely able to react to that little tidbit of information, that I say nothing at all.
I’m a vampire hybrid. No! Just NO!!