24. Focus on not Dying

24

Focus on not Dying

FLOR

I 'd been called a freak plenty of times. Running for my life through the forest, my heart lifting, I knew it was true. I felt at home for the first time in weeks.

The Hunt had defined my existence for so long that I'd kind of missed it, in some awful way. At least, when I was being hunted, I knew who my friends were. I knew who I could count on. No one, except Del.

When I'd known everyone else was my enemy, I'd been careful not to trust another soul. That was why I never would've been surprised in a hallway at night back home. It was only once I'd let my guard down, once I'd thought the people around me were safe, on my side, that I was caught. Once I'd let myself get lulled by the promise—the hope —of safety.

I'd never make that mistake again. If I lived to make another mistake, that was.

I tried not to give despair any room in my thoughts, as I focused on moving from tree to rock and back to tree again. I might not have Del, or any real knowledge of this area, but I had claws now, so I could catch myself when I started to fall from smaller branches, dig in and climb higher than I'd ever been able to at Southern. Once I got high enough, I could look for an escape route, rest, and plan.

Water could save me. I was a decent swimmer, and could hold my breath. I'd had to do just that for almost three minutes once, when the Hunt had caught up with me at the narrow river that crossed our hunting grounds at Southern.

I was close to a lake now; I could smell it. I'd have to climb down to swim for safety—toward the Lodge, maybe.

Or maybe not. They'd expect that, all of them. Ivan and the Northern traitors, too, because I was certain there had been someone else there when Vanessa knocked me out.

No, I couldn't go back to the Lodge alone. Who knew what was waiting for me there?

I'd swim in the other direction, keep going once I hit land, toward Colorado. Maybe someday, I'd run into Brand again. When we were older, and the rest of the world had forgotten about us.

What was I thinking? He was an Alpha Heir. He would never be forgotten. But I could be; I could vanish for good. Brand had said he would be fine, that we would be fine, even if we separated.

My wolf snarled inside. She did not agree.

Nearby, a branch cracked.

Snakeshit. Del had always said I let myself lose focus too often. And that's just what I'd done.

The silver-toothed asshole Ivan stood at the base of the most recent pine I had climbed, naked, wand in hand. Where had he hidden the wand when he shifted? I sort of wanted to ask, since there were really only so many possibilities.

No, Flor. Focus on not dying.

"Excellent effort, girl. Now come down. It's time to go." He'd infused Alpha dominance into his voice, but he wasn't nearly powerful enough to force me to obey.

I peered through the pine needles for any other rogues, but he was alone. My bad luck, to be caught by the head honcho. His voice as he repeated his command carried over the wind in the trees and the shifters in the distance, who were yipping every once in a while as they hunted me. Wolves were better at tracking than humans, so it was smart to stay in that form.

They really were smart. They'd underestimated me once, but I didn't dare to hope they would do that again. The general let out a howl when I didn't obey him immediately, calling them to us.

I couldn't think of a way out of this. If I stayed in this tree like a raccoon, they'd climb up and haul me down, or just shoot me, with guns or with magic.

What would Del have said? I could almost hear his voice in my head, though I was certain he'd never said these exact words. Other than that too-clever brain of yours, you've got three main weapons, girlie: your feet, your fists, and your foul mouth.

Plan A was run. Plan B was fight.

Time for Plan C.

"Why do you even want me, ya ratfucker?" I yelled a lot louder than I needed to.

"There are so many reasons, girl. For one, you're the Southern Heir. Or, Heiress."

"They don't let girls be Heirs, toadface. I'm nothing."

"I know better. But you're also the true mate of the Northern Alpha Heir," he said, his voice smooth, calm. "Of course I'd want you. You're the perfect vehicle for my revenge."

"My mate is Brand," I shouted. "The Mountain Heir."

He stopped circling the tree. Clearly, I'd shocked him. "That was the truth. How? More than one mate bond?" His wide smile glinted. "Very nice to know, but your true mate must be Glen Hillier. We heard about your little knife mishap."

Wait, how did he know about that? Fucking Vanessa. I was gonna tit punch her the next time I got close enough. I started climbing higher, looking for an escape route. But the other trees weren't quite close enough, and I was running out of branches on this one.

"And now I'll mate you, too. Or at least, I'll fuck you, before I deliver you to my colleagues."

I was breathless for a moment. What was it with males always wanting to rape me? I didn't have time to ask, as the villain was still monologuing, but this time he was doing it with a stiffy.

"And the beautiful thing is that I'll make you ask for it. Beg for me. Can you imagine Glen Hillier's rage at knowing you gave yourself not only to his best friend, but also his worst enemy? It's like a Shakespearean tragedy." He paused, tilting his head. "Of course, I'd love to have Margarette under my blade as well. Maybe in Act Three."

"Ew! Keep it in your pants, Gramps," I yelled as loud as I could. "I'm pretty sure your blade is rusty with age." I let myself cackle, even though I didn't think it had been that funny. But Plan C was all I had left. Time for some major trash talk, and a quick peek at his naked form gave me plenty of ammunition.

"Also, I can promise I've had a lot better than your little ‘magic wand.' You know, I've heard of you. Yeah, they call you Ivan the Tiny at Southern. You have a tiny rogue pack, a tiny bit of power, and a teeny-tiny Vienna sausage pe—" I ducked as he shot a bolt of magic at the branches around me.

Apparently, this rogue Alpha was a typical male after all. Teasing him about his dick clearly annoyed him.

"Yeah, they said your tiny wand didn't pack much punch. Kinda fizzling out there, huh?"

He kept shooting. "I'll tear you from this tree and show you how to submit to your betters!" I ducked and dodged the reddish globs of magical fire that arced through the air and landed on the pine needles at his feet. "You will respect me."

With his wand still clenched in one hand, he used the other to begin climbing.

Shit. Maybe the other trees were close enough after all.

"Respect is earned, Tiny Ivan," I called, flinging myself across the air and using my claws to catch onto the thick trunk of another pine. I wanted to celebrate setting a new shifter record for the jump, but just took a second to catch my breath before I went back to pissing off the magician. "Can a rogue pretender Alpha even get respect from other rogues? I mean, they know you're like the Emperor with no clothes. Although I wish you did have some clothes on, because it's super hard not to laugh right now. Maybe it's just the cold up here in Canada? For your sake, I hope so."

He shouted in Russian, dropping down and following me along the ground. As I caught a clear glimpse of it through the pine needles, I saw that he held the wand somewhat awkwardly. Like it was a borrowed weapon, not one he was completely comfortable with.

Probably why I'm still alive, I thought, scurrying around to the other side of the trunk like a squirrel as he shot another burst of red magic at me.

A blob of red, glowing whatever-the-fuck hit my left side again. I screamed, losing my grip with that hand. I swung drunkenly, my toes finding a thin branch to hold a little of my weight as I clung to the trunk with my right-hand claws.

Pain blurring my vision, I took in the gathered wolves at the base of the pine. There were more than six down there now. I couldn't fight off that many with one arm and no other weapons, not when they had magic on their side.

I was shit out of luck. But I wasn't out of shit. Shit talk , that was.

I'd probably been born with a foul mouth. It would stay that way to the end, I decided, as I kicked with my one good leg at the trunk, somehow catching a pinecone in between my toes. "Stick this in your ass, you Russian warlord-wannabe!" I used my toes to fling the pinecone in his general direction. It didn't hit the general, though I'd nailed someone, judging by the yelp.

But there were no more pinecones. No more weapons at all.

Hmm. My mind darted like a crazed hummingbird from thought to thought. Del said never to give up. That there's always a weapon, even if you can't do more than blink. That time itself could be a ? —

"Aoooooooo!"

"Well, butter my butt and call me a biscuit," I whispered. I'd stalled long enough for help to arrive.

"Aooooooo!" It was closer now.

The howl was familiar, kind of. I couldn't remember where I'd heard it before. I didn't think it was Brand. Glen, maybe? Or Finnick?

I threw my head back and howled a reply, then ducked another blob of magic. The next one hit my right leg, and I found myself dangling by one hand from the tree. I tried to jam the claws of my numb hand in the bark. At least if I was immobilized while I was stuck up in the tree, they'd have to climb up to get me. It might give Brand—or whoever was howling—more time to find me. I both hoped it was Brand, and wished for him to stay far away from this magical fucker. I didn't want my Bearman hurt.

I had just decided to fling a few more insults at Ivan, when something crashed into the wolves clustered near the base of my tree. Like a wrecking ball made of darkness and teeth, it bowled through them, leaving torn flesh and howling madness behind. In a blink, it came back again, moving too fast for my eyes to track.

What was it? Shifters couldn't move that fast.

I couldn't move; all I could do was try to watch, and wonder. I'd thought vampires were a myth—everyone did—although Southern kids thought it was hilarious to play shifters and vampires. But this attacker was doing the sorts of things a vampire might.

Then a real wolf appeared, tearing into the crowd as well. A gray one that I knew.

Glen! I stopped myself from shouting his name; I knew better than to distract a wolf in battle. There was still a sizable group of rogues standing, and they'd circled into a defensive position, the wizard wolf in the center.

Glen feinted in and out, harrying the rogues, as the general attempted to hit him with magic fire. But the blobs coming from the wand were smaller now and not as bright. Was his magic wearing out? Running out? I hoped so.

Maybe I could distract him, make him use up his juice on me, and give Glen and the vampire-wolf thing a chance to take down a few more of the regulars.

"Hey, baldy," I called. "I wanted to ask you about your pack dentist. Is he the same guy who did your nails? Because I think you could get a better manicure at a human strip mall."

Ivan glanced up at me like I'd lost my mind, but then I pretended to start down the tree, and he shot another ball of magical fire my way.And hit me.

Ouch. I didn't have much game left, physically or mentally at this point.

But my stupid taunt had been effective enough. Ivan had turned his attention on me, which meant he'd stopped watching Glen and what I could see now was the other wolf. It wasn't a vampire. It was a small, nondescript-looking black wolf, with glowing red eyes.

Okay, that part wasn't nondescript. The eyes were creepy as fuck.

The two of them savaged the gathered rogues as a unit, like some sort of eight-footed fighting machine. They moved together, almost as if they were connected somehow. They seemed to sense what the other wolf would do, knew when to defend the other's flank, when to drop back and allow their partner to attack.

It was beautiful to watch. But none of the rogue wolves were dying or fleeing. They kept getting back up, ready to fight. Fucking magic again? It had to be.

Ivan let another blob of light fly, and to my dismay, it hit Glen in his chest. He collapsed, just like Finnick had. Red light webbed out all over Glen's furry form, tethering him to the earth.

The black wolf was all that was left, against seven enemies. He was still, panting with his head hanging low, as if he were already defeated. I shut my eyes, unwilling to see him die, my heart aching for some reason, like I was losing some part of myself.

I didn't even know this guy. Yet, if I'd been able to move, I would have thrown myself out of the tree and taken down at least one of the rogues, or climbed down and fought beside him. Or met my end with him.

My eyes were stinging, and I blinked to clear them. Then I realized the area was silent.

I looked down, wishing I could move my head to see around, though the view directly below was now interesting enough. It reminded me of one of those human psychological tests.

Rorschach? Yeah, I thought, trying to make sense of what I was seeing.

Ivan and the black wolf were gone, but the other rogue wolves were dead. And not slightly dead, either. They were in pieces, bits of flesh and bone, not one of them bigger than my hand.

What the actual…

There were two splintered halves of the wand below me as well, glimmering and sputtering with a few sparks of red fire on the forest floor. Was Ivan's body part of the splatters around it? There was no way to tell.

"Holy shit," I breathed, and felt something touch my neck. I lurched forward, almost falling.

Someone behind me tsked. "Careful, little one. I don't want you to fall."