Chapter 9

Nye hit the ground and sprang forward, moving away from the tower.

He felt her lingering presence above as he heard the sound of the wolves as they emerged from the castle and the surrounding grounds. They were drawn by the sound of him hitting the earth, the thud echoing through the ground. With Isobel’s scent masked, they would assume she was with him and give chase. All she needed was enough time to get out before Eleanor showed up.

The wolves would have been tasked with rounding them up and holding them until the wraith arrived. What would happen then Nye didn’t want to know. If Isobel was pregnant…

Him? A father? The notion was as absurd as a vampire being able to procreate. Gabby was wrong.

There was no doubt in his mind that Sheera’s sire bond was in full effect, and it wouldn’t be long before the entire pack knew his location. In their animal form, their minds would be linked and their senses in harmony to maximize the hunt. The hard part was not getting caught, but the harder part was not getting bit.

Darting through the trees, he sensed them following, the sound of their claws scraping on earth and their labored breathing reaching his ears through the darkness. The light of the full moon filtered through the trees lighting his way even though he didn’t need it. His vampire-enhanced eyesight was a match for the wolves that pursued him.

He banked left, sensing a presence breaking through the trees beside him. The shape of a large wolf emerged, its russet colored fur streaked with sweat. Its jaws snapped as it caught his scent and weaved through the underbrush in an attempt to get closer.

Skidding to a halt, Nye clapped his hands, drawing its attention, and it did the same. Facing off with the vampire, it began to growl in warning, lowering its head and readying itself to strike.

“Here, puppy, puppy, puppy,” Nye said, goading it into action. “You want me? Come here and fetch.”

The wolf pounced, growling and snapping, and the spy dodged. Then he began running, leading the enemy from the castle and into the forest—far, far away from Isobel.

Hoping he’d given her enough time, he began to run faster in an attempt to lose the pack in the forest. Then he would double back and meet Isobel on the road just as he’d promised. He couldn’t fight a hundred wolves on his own, let alone Eleanor.

Breaking through a line of trees, he found himself in a clearing. On the opposite side, a dozen wolves emerged, leaping into the light of the moon.

Skidding to a stop, Nye’s heart pounded wildly as he realized he was the one who’d been lured. Cursing, he turned, looking for a way out, but there was none. He’d been herded like a bloody sheep.

The wolves circled him, and every so often, one would dart forward and snap their jaws at his ankles before retreating back into line. More and more appeared through the trees, their eyes gleaming in the darkness. He was trapped in a sea of werewolves. The entire Triskele pack watched and waited, but none struck. They were waiting for their alpha.

Nye waited along with them, hoping Sheera was alone and not accompanied by Eleanor. His thoughts went to Isobel, and he hoped to all that was good in the world she’d had enough time to escape. If he didn’t make it, then at least she would be able to get back to the manor. She’d be safe with Gabby and Tristan—if he was finished sulking—and Reed and the Six under the knight’s command.

He didn’t have to wait long. The wolves began to part, letting through their leader. The silver wolf was larger than the rest, but he didn’t need to see her to understand who she was. He’d recognize her unearthly blue eyes anywhere, and they were still as prominent in her wolf form as her human.

“You don’t have to do this,” he said as Sheera stood before him, her head level with his chest. “You control the fate of your pack. Your pack, Sheera, not hers. Don’t let Eleanor enslave your people.”

Wolf-Sheera licked her lips before letting out a soft whine.

“I saved you once,” he murmured. “Remember? When you were a girl?” She lowered her head slightly, listening. “Now it’s time to save yourself…and your pack.”

She began to growl softly, making her displeasure clear, but Nye wasn’t finished. He had to convince her to take the noble path before they were all lost to the Unhallowed. He didn’t care what happened to him, he couldn’t allow Eleanor to resurrect her coven of wraiths…and he couldn’t allow her to get her hands on Isobel.

“They’ll be held to the whims of the moon, but isn’t that better than being tied to a wraith?” he went on. “Think of what she’ll ask them to do through you. Do you want that kind of suffering on your conscience?”

She lowered her snout, her eyes never leaving his. Was her movement a sign of her acquiescence?

“You sacrificed yourself once, and now you’re the only one who has the power to save them from an eternity of slavery. You know what you have to do,” he said, holding out his hand. “Break the sire bond, and set them free.”

Wolf-Sheera padded forward and pressed her nose against his skin before rubbing her cheek against his palm. Unafraid, he knelt before her and stared into her shimmering blue eyes.

“I know,” he said. “I won’t leave you.”

She butted her head against his chest and curled up on the ground, her chest beginning to heave as the magic left her body. It was as simple as that. She willed it, and so it was.

The pack began to whine, and one by one, each let out a howl, calling to the moon and their alpha, who was withering away before them. To break the sire bond, she had to let go of her immortality. She knew it, and he knew it, but deep down, Sheera had always been loyal to her people and no one else. Everything she’d done—bargaining with Eleanor all those years ago—she’d done for them.

The sound of a hundred wolves mourning the only alpha they’d ever known echoed around him, their despair rolling out across the forest. Nye sat next to Sheera, her silvery head resting in his lap. Stroking his fingers through the soft hair behind her ears, he waited, soothing her as the last of her life left the world and stepped into the next.

One by one, the pack turned their backs and disappeared through the trees, melting into the darkness until finally, he was alone with Sheera’s body.

They would return once the moon had set, and they would take her for burial, but for now, the sky was her only company. The sky and Nye.

He couldn’t blame her for what had happened tonight. Eleanor’s poisonous stench was all over this. The Triskele’s transformation was forced, he was sure of it, the immortality the wraith had given Sheera imbued with certain traits that gave her control over the wolf. They’d been played just as Nye and Isobel had.

He stood and cast one more look at the silver wolf, the mighty Triskele alpha, and disappeared into the trees.

He had to find Isobel.

Isobel powered down the stairs, her body covered in sweat and her lungs burning.

Sprinting through the empty castle, she fumbled in her bag for the car keys, positive she’d seen Nye drop them in when they’d arrived the previous day. It was well past midnight now, somewhere between the witching hour and sunrise, but it didn’t matter. She was wide-awake and full of fear that almost blinded her.

If she were pregnant, then there was no way she was letting Eleanor get her slimy hands on her child. Nye’s and her child.

As her fingers brushed against the keys, her heart skipped a beat in relief. Finding herself in the main entrance of the castle, she pushed against the front door and emerged out into the night. Now where did the car go? Spying it to the side of the driveway, she ran, her boots crunching on the gravel underfoot.

Pressing the button on the fob, the indicators flashed orange the locking mechanism disengaged. Yanking open the door, she threw her bag onto the back seat and slid behind the wheel.

Fumbling with the keys, she searched for the ignition but couldn’t find it. Cursing, she realized it was a push-button start, and the key only had to be inside for it to work, so she jammed her finger on the button. Immediately, the engine turned over and began to purr.

Shoving the gearstick into drive, she glanced up and cried out, her heart twisting and her stomach flying into her throat. Of course, it wasn’t going to be that easy. Just running out of the castle, not being stopped by anyone, and then driving off into the sunset. Stupid, naive, little Isobel!

Not ten meters in front of her stood the epic bitch known as Eleanor. Isobel didn’t think it was possible to hate someone with as much pure loathing as she did right then, but she felt her veins burn. Why wouldn’t she just piss the hell off already? What did she ever do to her?

Isobel’s hands tightened around the steering wheel as Eleanor’s lips curved in triumph. She raised her hand, but Izzy wasn’t waiting around to see what would happen. It was time to take the wraith down a peg or two. If she was knocked up with Nye’s magical baby, there was no way in hell that bitch was getting her hands on it, no matter what it ended up being. It was hers and Nye’s and no one else’s baby. A child was not a thing.

“Bitch,” Isobel cursed. “Eat shit.”

She slammed her foot on the accelerator, pushing it right to the floor. The car roared, the back tires spinning in the gravel. It fishtailed slightly to the left, and she eased up on the gas. It was enough to allow the tires to catch, and the car powered forward.

The split second before the hood collided with Eleanor, the wraith’s eyes widened in surprise, then she slammed into the windshield, cracking the glass before sailing up over the roof.

Isobel didn’t stop to see the carnage. She sped down the driveway and careened out onto the highway, almost smashing into a lorry. The driver blasted his horn as she righted the wheel, the tires screeching as her heart stuck in her throat.

She began to laugh hysterically, tears rolling down her face. Holy shit! Did she just run over Eleanor and live to tell the tale?

Her laughter soon turned into sobs as she drove, her heart twisting. Where was Nye? He said he would meet her on the road, but he was nowhere in sight as she settled the car into the left lane, her hands shaking and her stomach rolling. She had to keep going. He told her to keep going.

Realizing she hadn’t switched on the headlights, she turned the dial on the side of the steering wheel, and the road ahead was illuminated, the taillights of the lorry already disappearing off in the distance. The road was empty apart from her, and she kept driving, hoping she hadn’t already passed Nye while she was freaking out.

When she was about five miles from the castle and almost losing hope he’d find her, a dark shape appeared ahead, arms waving. Recognizing Nye—and hoping it wasn’t a trick of her mind—she slowed and pulled off to the side. When the headlights lit up his familiar form, she heaved a sigh of relief and brought the car to a standstill, leaving the engine running.

He rounded the car and opened the driver’s side, coaxing her to climb over the center console.

“Are you okay?” he asked as she scurried into the passenger seat. “What happened to the windscreen?”

“Eleanor,” she replied, grasping his arm to make sure he was really there and not a fear-induced hallucination. “I got in the car, started it, and she was standing in the driveway. I…”

“You ran her over?” he asked, his mouth falling open.

“What happened out there? Are the Triskele coming after us now, too?”

“No. They won’t be a problem. Sheera’s gone,” he stated as he pulled the car back out onto the road. “Eleanor somehow used her immortality to embed some kind of control over her. The sire bond with the wolves ensured the pack would follow her every command.”

“The Triskele were enslaved? All this time?”

Nye nodded. “Sheera sacrificed herself to save her pack. If anything, the Triskele have turned on the Unhallowed for what Eleanor did. They’re back to changing with the moon, I’m afraid, but at least we won’t have to worry about them coming for us. I hope.”

So Sheera was only doing what she thought was right for her pack. Isobel could understand it to a point, but to live over four hundred years so they could escape the whims of the moon? She shook her head. There was too much left unsaid and even more that Nye had not explained to her. Her fingers found the pendant around her neck.

“Please, give me some answers,” she said, her voice wavering. “After what just happened back there… I need some answers.”

“Fine,” he replied, his gaze never leaving the road. “That pendant I gave you was handed down from Triskele alpha to Triskele alpha until the day Sheera’s father gave it to me. Free and clear.” Nye’s eyes blazed, his annoyance at an all-time high.

“A Triskele heirloom is stopping me from becoming a wraith?” she asked, her breaths coming in short bursts. “Why’d he give it to you?”

“I saved his daughter,” he said simply.

“Sheera?” Her mouth fell open.

“He had no sons, and she was his only offspring. I saved her while she was still a mortal wolf, and she went on to sacrifice herself to save them from the moon. The pendant was given to me as a sign of his gratitude, nothing more. It has no special powers. It’s just a necklace.”

“You could’ve just told me,” Isobel exclaimed. “If it was that simple, why let me believe…” She trailed off.

“Because that day, I started something I never realized. Sheera believed she loved me, and I… I let her believe it when there was no hope.”

“Because you loved Eleanor.”

“I never loved her, either,” he snapped.

“But you believed it at the time.”

“What do you want me to say, Isobel?” he asked, his jaw tensing. “We’re talking about something that happened four hundred years ago. I’m not the same man.”

“I don’t want you to say anything,” she declared. “I only want to understand.” She placed her hand over his, and his grasp tightened around the steering wheel. “You saved me back there. Again. You have nothing to prove. Not to me.”

Silence opened up between them, the events of the night weighing heavily on both of them.

“What about the Triskele?” Isobel asked after a moment of reflection. “What will happen to them now?”

“Sheera’s fate was sealed the day she accepted immortality from Eleanor,” Nye replied. “There was never any saving her.”

“So she’s truly gone?”

“Nothing can live forever,” he murmured, his eyes fixing on the road ahead. “Not even the immortal.”