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My fae half senses that this is no ordinary rogue. The creature carries some unnamed darkness within him that no amount of “loupness” can explain.
Intelligence flares behind the red glow and that fact in itself is far more frightening than all the rest put together. Loups have no reason. Loups do not think logically and rationally—which means this creature is dangerous.
And I’ve chosen to remain outside and face him. Idiot. Please let the cops get here soon. Please let Luc get here in time.
My heart pounds so hard it feels like it’s about to lurch right up out of my chest. For a moment, I think my legs might fail me. I lock my knees to hold myself upright. I will not fall in front of this devil creature. I will not die on my knees without first putting up a damn good fight. If I fail—and there’s a good chance I will—I want to make damn sure this creature thinks twice before attacking again. I want him to remember the fight I put up and to ask himself if he really wants to risk death.
At least I was able to save them. I couldn’t save Darrie or Gwen. I couldn’t save my beloved dad. But I’m damn sure going to do my best to enable Davey and Laura to live through this nightmare and see the light of tomorrow.
Thank everything that’s holy I brought my weapons out here with me, though carrying one measly little knife and a wooden stick to this fight will be like trying to subdue a tiger with a toothpick. Still, my odds are better than Laura’s, and I don’t have something that can be used against me. I don’t have a child.
“Come on, you crazy, naked little vamp. Want to play? Try me.” What the fuck am I doing? He has already proven insane. He won’t need me to taunt him any further to get him to attack.
Do banshees ever herald their own impending death?
I don’t know enough about my own kind. I hid from my heritage all these years because I was scared of it, and now I won’t get to explore who I really am. I don’t know how things might have progressed with Luc, if we’d only had the chance. Now I’ll never know.
I haven’t lived long enough to die tonight.
I shift the stake to rest more comfortably in my grip, exactly the way Luc showed me, and draw the knife with my other hand. I feel safer with these weapons in my hands, even if they are miniscule. Even if they end up not making a difference. Then a tiny yelp escapes me when another set of red eyes appears beside the first.
Two of them.
Laura said they almost got Davey. They. Fuck it. I’m facing down not one, but two crazed rogues.
Is there a fucking loup factory near here? As one goes down, another steps up to take its place?
This second one is no vamp. His maw is huge and distended, and filled with slavering teeth. Unlike the skinny vamp, his body is stocky and muscled. Half human, half furred werewolf. Another fucking were. Where does this vamp find his friends? Some kind of deadly zoo?
The were doesn’t need my permission to enter my home and reach my friends. As that realization sinks in, the vamp attacks.
He launches in a blur I can barely see. I call on everything fae within me to rise to the surface and help. Fae blood. Bring me strength. Bring me speed. Bring me luck. Please. I slash blindly outward with the stake, side-stepping just in time. A rage-filled hiss in my ear and the lightest of grazes on my neck indicate how close I just came to having my throat torn out. Wetness coats my skin. Is it blood? Did he nick me? Or is it spittle that dripped from those disgusting yellow incisors?
No time to check. The weight of his charge knocks me onto my back and takes the breath completely from my lungs. I can’t see the were from this position, not with the vampire hunched on top of me, staring down into my face. My arms are pinned to my side by his bony knees. No way to use the weapons I brought. No way to protect myself. I’m helpless and there’s nothing I can do about it.
His mouth widens into an evil grin and I have to fight the urge to vomit as a trail of saliva dribbles out and drops onto my cheek. It’s warm and slimy on my flesh.
“You want to play, hybrid?” The words are deep and gravelly—as if drawn from the depths of some unknown hell rather than emanating from his actual being. “Then why not tell me your name?”
He wants my name? A strange request. My lungs finally begin to recover from being winded. Enough that I manage to draw in a breath and spit up into his face, but he only cocks his head and laughs. Horror rolls over me at the cracked sound. Is this the last thing I will hear? Is this the last thing I will feel—this spindly devil’s weight pressing me down into the damp night earth?
I start to wiggle underneath him. I may be incapacitated but I refuse to let that stop me trying.
I blink away sudden tears as the other one appears in my vision. His wolf-like features with the red-tinged eyes above that misshapen muzzle are equally as terrifying as the vamp. He leans eagerly over the two of us, as if a spectator at a sporting event. A fight-to-the-death sporting event.
“Leave some for me.” The words that emanate from the were are distorted but not to the point I can’t understand him. How do these starkly different creatures have the capacity to work together?
The vamp grabs my throat and squeezes.
I want you dead, monster. I want you both dead. I can’t speak out loud, not with his grip tightening around my neck until my eyes feel as if they’re about to pop out of my head. The inside of my throat burns. The hum in my ears grows, overtaking all other noise.
It sounds like my bees, but that can’t be right. It’s night time and they’re safely tucked up in their hives. Red tinges my vision and everything begins to blur. No oxygen. Can’t...breathe.
My head is light, spinning but I’m not dizzy. I squeeze my fingers and remember I have weapons. I am not completely helpless. It’s difficult to move, but if I don’t, I’m dead.
Somehow, I manage to flex one of my wrists, the only part of my arm I can move, and jab into the vamp’s thigh with the knife. It isn’t much, but in this pinned-down state, it’s the only action I can take. The tip of the silver blade is super-sharp and pierces the monster’s skin deeply enough to elicit a squeal. It won’t stop him for long, but the grip on my throat eases and the weight on my chest disappears. I roll away and stumble to my feet, coughing and spluttering and trying to get my crushed throat to work properly.
The titter of crazed laughter from both rogues when I raise my piddly weapons in front of me generates a shiver down my spine.
“Give us your name, banshee,” the were says. “If you do, we’ll let you go.”
Like hell you will. They’re enjoying the chase, clearly feeding on my fear. They circle me, one moving clockwise, the other anti-clockwise. I pivot, unable to keep them both in view at the same time. I’m their prey, and my time is just about up. Which of them will get me first? Will they rip me in half and share the spoils?
There’s a blur of movement to my right. Luc erupts out of the trees and launches into an almighty leap over the heads of the rogues. He lands neatly beside me, his snarls rivalling those of the monsters.
My body hunches over as the first signs of death begin to call. No! No, no, no, no.
Not tonight, not now, and not this way.
My wail rises, as stifled as always but even more so from the damage the vamp inflicted on my neck. Luc cocks his head and I realize, despite my destroyed throat, he can hear the banshee call. This time, someone hears me. The agonizing sob breaks free and I begin to wail in earnest but there’s no time or space to sink into the sadness as a whole wall of pale flesh and fur, fangs and fetid breath is upon us.
The vamp dives onto Luc, somewhere off to the side. The other lands in a huge leap right on top of me. His front paws are the size of dinner plates. I topple backward and he lands heavily on my chest. Not even being winded twice in the space a few minutes can stop the call of the banshee. It’s my other, fed by fae magic, and something completely separate to whatever it is that gives me voice and breath.
Saliva dribbles from his maw down onto my face and he leans in close and sniffs. For a second or two I wonder if I can reason with him. Most weres aren’t like this. Most weres are as reasonable as any other supe. What made him turn into a monster? Then I stare deep into his eyes and know there’s no reason left. This close I can’t avoid the calculated madness behind those terrifying purple-red flames of rage.
Purple?
Unlike the vamp, the were stinks. I nearly hurl from the stench of rot that emanates from his mouth, and from sheer terror at the thought that I’m about to get my throat ripped out.
“Your name, hybrid?”
We’re on that again?
With effort I control the wail long enough to answer. “Fuck off, puppy dog.”
His growl turns to an enraged roar. I grin defiantly up into his face even as my death wail recommences.
I’m singing my own death. Am I singing my own death? Is such a thing even possible?
His jaw opens and snaps shut on my neck just as I stab the knife directly into his eye. The blade slides in easily, and I wonder if Luc will be proud of me. A whole blade of silver, right to the hilt. And I held the knife just the way he showed me.
Shock colors his furry expression. I scream for him as his limp body collapses completely onto mine and he’s so heavy I can barely breathe, let alone move. Still, the banshee call goes on. There’s something very wrong, though. I’m crying and wailing, wracked with pain and sadness, but no sound emerges at all.
What is going on?
I really can’t catch my breath. Panic floods through me. I can’t breathe at all. Instead I try a gasp but it’s light and gurgly. I’m choking on blood—my blood—and more tears fall when I realize the death call is a double one.
I guess banshees can sing their own impending death.
He tore open my neck before he died, and I’m choking on my own blood. Sorrow builds for the future life I’ll never live, for lost chances, unrequited love, unfulfilled goals and achievements. I will never find out what might have been between Luc and me. I will never have the opportunity to build a life with someone I love by my side. I will die alone, as I’ve lived alone most of my life. I will never know what it is to truly love and be loved.
The banshee call builds to unbearable agony in my chest. With my throat almost completely blocked, there’s nowhere for the banshee cry to escape. I’m surrounded by death, covered by it, literally with this furry carcass, and now I begin to drown.
I’m drowning in your life force, Luc.
I turn my head to the side and watch him fight, wishing I could go to his aid. Luc is faster than the rogue, by a long shot, but the crazed one is driven by something more powerful even than Luc. A purplish aura surrounds them. Is that my vision failing, or is it the shadow of whatever magics are providing strength to this loup and the seemingly endless stream of others?
A vague memory surfaces from my childhood. Me, skipping down the street toward the park and reaching out toward an old man lying on one of the park benches near the swing. Purple. He looks so pretty all coated in purple. My father snatching me up and whisking me back home. Never touch the purple, Aleah. Purple is bad magic. Necromancer magic.
The purple is always something to steer clear of. And now its seedy miasma begins to swallow Luc.
I drift toward unconsciousness. It becomes harder to keep my eyes open. I try to fight it, my father’s words still ringing in my ears. Purple is bad. Luc is surrounded by purple. He is still a blur of movement, and I think maybe one of them is down. Oh my God, it’s Luc. Not you too. Please.
Help him.
In the murky dark amidst the depths of the banshee death agony, I start to hallucinate. A swarm of bees rises up out of the forest and heads toward me. The humming sound in my ears increases. It can’t be my bees. It’s night time. My beautiful creatures, come to say good bye, at least in my imagination. I smile at the swarm, even though I know it isn’t real. Save him. Save Luc. Too late for me...
I try with one last effort to heave off the carcass in an attempt to do something...anything...to help. At least it won’t get Laura or Davey. At least I know they’re safe.
Random thoughts...
Now the were is dead, the vamp won’t be able to get in the house.
Fading...
Hey, vamp monster, look over here. Look at me. Let Luc defeat you while you’re distracted.
Instead, the darkness grows, and at the last, before it takes me completely, I realize death is not so bad, after all. There’s a growing warmth, a sinking feeling, and then...nothing.
