Warner awoke in a cage, but that wasn’t the part that really upset him.
It was the stabbing, slicing pain in his gut.
It felt like something was trying to rip its way out of him and when he turned to see Lenore in the cell across from him and the expression she wore, he knew it was more than a feeling.
By the powers, Peter Breslin was going to rip his way out of him.
Warner wasn’t afraid of the pain to come.
He was afraid of his failure. Afraid for what it meant for the packs and for humankind. If he, the Dark Champion, couldn’t keep Peter from rising again, who or what could?
He knew the answer.
The Wendigo.
An evil such as Peter’s must be swallowed twice, the softer, quieter voice inside his head told him. First, by the daywalking world’s defender—the Dark Champion. Then by the underworld’s champion—the Wendigo.
“This is going to suck,” he muttered.
Lenore had put her hand over her mouth, as if the act could hold back her revulsion.
The infected pack watched him with great interest and no small amount of glee.
He realized this was what they were after. If they could get Peter as soon as he was reborn… if they managed to stop the cycle before the Wendigocould do her part, he didn’t know what would happen.
But it would be all bad, of that he was sure.
“Lenore, you should get your hunter friends in here,” he ground out.
“I don’t think any of them are my hunter friends any longer. And those left who are hunters, well… I think they’re fucked. They can’t help us.”
“Damn right,” one of the infected said.
“Shut up. Or I’ll make you,” Lenore threatened.
“What are you going to do from over there?”
She murmured words of a curse that made the bottom of their cage catch fire.
“It won’t kill us,” it said.
“No, but it’ll hurt. And that’s good enough for me.” Lenore smiled a devil-may-care grin.
Then Warner’s stomach twisted, and grew, billowing out to a horrific size and they could all see something moving inside.
“Jesus Fucking Christ,” Lenore said.
Warner sensed Mari before he saw her. Her presence sent a cool, calming sensation flowing through his veins.
“You’re here,” he managed through grit teeth.
“Of course I am. You called. I came.” She reached through the bars to hold his hand.
The burning wolves were strangely silent and much to Lenore’s obvious chagrin, the flames died down much too soon.
“Have to work on the longevity of that one,” she said, more to herself than anything.
“Has she come?” Mari asked him.
“You came,” Warner said, drinking in the sight of her.
“You must be out of your head with agony. She’ll come. Arianna will. I know it.”
“It’s not Arianna. It’s you.”
Mari closed her eyes. “No, it’s not. That’s okay, I will still do everything I can.”
Warner was about to argue with her when another bolt of pain wracked his body and the shape inside of him twisted and claws tore at the flesh, but still couldn’t quite break free.
“Hold on, I’m going to get you out.”
“No, stop! Don’t. The infected want me out.”
“Because the rest of their numbers are coming. You can deal with them better out than in.”
Warner cringed. “Word choice, Mari. Word choice.”
She looked down to his distended stomach. “Sorry.”
Lenore cackled and Mari wondered if the badass hunter had finally cracked.
“Goddess, you’re worse than Parker. Now is not the time for a fart joke.”
“It’s just… my brother.” Lenore kept laughing. “For all of his scheming, and plotting and evil… he’s been reduced to... The Great and Terrible Peter Breslin. A fart in a cage.”
The infected snarled at her and she laughed harder.
Mari scanned the room for a way to open the cages. They were high tech, the very latest in werewolf containment.
Lenore managed to contain herself long enough to point at the master console. “Over there.”
“Would they really be so stupid as to use a code that you’d know?” Mari said.
“Fuck the code. Just bash the console. The doors will open.” Lenore grinned.
“I don’t want all the doors to open. Just yours and Warner’s.”
Lenore shrugged. “These fuckos aren’t going to be a problem.”
The howls that suddenly echoed from outside indicated that the fuckos would indeed be a problem.
Warner’s whole body surged. It was as if his skin tried to crawl off his body. Or maybe just what was under it. The new version of Peter Breslin.
Mari knew they were running out of time.
And so was the Wendigo.
Goddessdamnit, where was she?
Mari shifted her claws and ripped out the console, and all three cages opened.
Mari expected an immediate bloodbath, but they were fixated on Warner. Lenore immediately headed over to the gun locker was loaded for bear.
Err… werewolf.
Although, nothing she did would make them stay dead. The Dark Champion had to devour them, but he couldn’t exactly do that while hell on earth was ripping its way into the world from his insides out.
She had to get them away from him so he had time to regenerate.
A knot formed in the back of her throat and she went to Warner, helping him move from the cage to the corner of the room where his flesh began to tear and his bones shattered and tried to reform.
“Run, Mari. Get to safety,” he said through grit teeth.
She looked up at him, love shining in her eyes. “I’ll never be safer than when I’m with you, Warner Woolven.”
“Mari, I don’t know what you’re planning, but don’t.”
She smiled at him. “But I have to.” She kissed his cheek.
“Mari,” he ground out and reached for her as she pulled away.
“Do you remember when you told me that I was too pretty to be of use?”
“Goddess, no. I was just…” he trailed off as another spasm ripped through him.
Mari’s time was oh-so short.
“It’s okay. I’m not reminding you now to punish you. It’s important. Because I believed it then, but I don’t now. I know what I can do. What my use is. It’s to buy you time.”
Warner reached for her, but she knew she couldn’t be weak. She couldn’t hide her face in his arms, or let her save her.
In this moment, it was her, or the rest of the world.
She knew what she had to do and what she had to choose. For him, for Lenore, for Noah… for the humans who didn’t know about the things that went bump in the night.
For all the sacrifices who’d come before her.
She didn’t understand why she’d feel the mating bond with Warner when his true mate would come back to him. Why would the powers do this to her?
Aside from the fact she must’ve burned down an orphanage and kicked puppies in a past life.
It was so she’d be willing to do this. To sacrifice herself in this moment. To give the Champion the time he needed to survive until the Wendigocame.
“I love you, Warner. Be happy.”
Warner howled as the monster known as Peter Breslin finally tore through from the underworld, using Warner’s flesh as the passageway.
Mari used her nails to tear open the skin on her wrists and the blood began to flow, hot and sweet.
All of the wolves’ attention was suddenly focused on her. It was like flipping a switch.
The one who seemed to be the leader spoke. “Nice try, but it won’t work,” he snarled as a strange shift came over his face.
His teeth grew bigger, and more awful, somehow. As did the rest of him. They were adapting. Dear Goddess, she had to make herself run.
Lenore snickered. “No? I think it will. Look at you. You can barely contain your teeth. If you’re not going to use them, put them away, big boy.”
The wolf snarled at her, half-turning his face toward Lenore, but seemingly unable to break away from Mari completely.
“Uh, Mari. Mari?” Lenore questioned. “Your blood, it’s not slowing. Your wounds aren’t healing.”
Mari knew that. She could feel it.
In truth, she’d known somehow they wouldn’t.
When this plan had formed in her mind, she hadn’t ever allowed that she’d survive. She’d never considered her superhuman healing ability. Her body had known before her conscious mind that something had changed.
“Come get me, fuckers.” Mari forced her feet to move, to carry her to the door.
“I’ll come for you. Stay alive, Mari.” Warner lay, his sternum split open and a howling, ravening beast crawling from his body. “I swear it.”
Peter roared and to Mari’s intense dismay, he joined the hunt.
She could run faster as a wolf, but had less blood to spare. All that was left was her warrior form. It was always the hardest for her to attain.
Except now, it seemed to happen with a thought.
Her own howl joined the chorus of the damned and she ran. She moved at superhuman speed through the makeshift village the hunters had set up and many of them joined the chase.
The infected began to turn on each other, and the hunters who’d helped orchestrate Peter’s return, Changing them to increase their numbers and to replace the comrades they ate to build their strength.
She had the vague notion that’s what was going to happen to her.
Mari could only hope she’d be dead before it happened.
Which meant she needed to run until she had nothing left.
She grew cold first, her limbs beginning to become heavy and her lids weighted. Then the cold gave way to numbness. That numbness was the sweet spot she needed. It dulled her thinking, her fear, and let her move faster. Faster than she’d ever run before.
They were still on her trail.
The farther she ran, the more time she could give Warner and the Wendigo.
Peter gained on her.
She couldn’t have that. Dear Goddess, not that.
But she was no match for the reborn devil as he ran her down. He tackled her to the ground, sending them both crashing down a rocky embankment. Mari kept waiting for the darkness to take her, but unfortunately, she was still all-too present when they came to a stop in the cool, clear water of a wide, shallow river.
“What a lovely birthday present,” he said, his horribly twisted face so close to hers.
He looked like some caricature of a werewolf caught mid-shift. It was like really well-done horror movie makeup. Except it was all real. All him.
And all evil.
His red eyes were still shedding mucus and buried his snout at her throat, but the pain didn’t come.
“You smell like flowers.”
“You smell like shit,” she managed. “If you’re going to do it, just get it over with.”
“I haven’t decided how. Do I want to let you linger until Warner comes for you? Because he will come for you. The Dark Champion would damn the world for you. I could feel it in his bones, when I chewed through them.”
“Don’t be stupid.” The darkness was closer now. The numbness was colder, somehow. “Even if he did feel that way, he would never put his own needs over that of the pack.”
Peter snorted. “Is the world his pack now? Ridiculous.”
Mari could see the truth in Peter’s words. Yes, the world had become Warner’s pack. Supe and human alike, and Mari thought it was beautiful. He was the savior the world needed.
So for these last few minutes, Mari could be the savior he needed.
She was honored to be part of it. To be of use.
“You’re so pathetic. I don’t know how to hurt you. You don’t value yourself enough that I can take anything from you.” He shook his head and spittle spattered her face.
“Or maybe I just know what’s worth living for and dying for.”
His teeth grazed her throat, tearing at the flesh, but not quite ravaging her. “Why aren’t you pissed?” He peered closer at her, as if she was some kind of strange bug.
She was angry. Of course she was angry. She wanted to spend her life with Warner. She wanted to have pups with him. She wanted to have adventures with him. She wanted to help him bear the weight of the Dark Champion’s mantle on his broad, strong shoulders.
She wanted more late nights with the other Woolven Brides. More of the sugar fairy’s treats and trading secrets over wine at grown-up slumber parties. She wanted more family picnics where bone fairies sat with sugar fairies and vampires and dragons came to visit. She wanted to see her pups trailing after their Alpha, Noah.
She wanted to see her father again. She wanted to hug him so tight.
She wanted more days in Westwood’s lab.
Mari wanted more of everything. She didn’t want to give it all up.
Was it unfair? Massively.
But what could she do about it? Not a goddessdamned thing.
When she passed from this world, she’d be thinking about Warner. What he’d said. That he would still come for her, that he would find her.
That she was his one.
She’d take that with her and hold on it through the long dark.
Mari couldn’t change the fact she was going to die her. She couldn’t change that it would be Peter Breslin who took her life while inflicting as much pain and agony on her as he could. He’d drink it like a fine wine.
She was under no illusions that she was strong enough to keep him from that small, sick pleasure. No, Mari didn’t handle pain well at all.
The only thing she really had a choice about was the memories she’d hold on to when her abused body surrendered.
And the satisfaction of knowing that Peter Breslin would breathe the air of this world just long enough to know he missed it before the Wendigosent him straight back to the dark.
So she smiled at him.
“You won’t be smiling when I finish tearing your throat.”
Mari kept smiling.
“Fight me,” he demanded.
The smile didn’t waver.
As he tore out her throat, she hoped her death mask would remain a smile that would piss him off even when he rotted in hell.