Blood Reign (#4): Alpha Warriors of the Blood (The Blood Series) (11 page)

Slash stayed forward, Adrianna following close behind. He took in the myriad of scents present in the forest, widening the gap with that of the corpses they'd slaughtered to escape.

A familiar scent caught him, grinding his progress to a sharp halt.

His new pack slowed behind him. Yips, soft howls, and snuffles met his ears. The Were were all in their half forms, the Combatant were keeping up nicely, and the Unseelie Sidhe were taking up room at the back of the group.

The Singers’ Feeler, Angela, slid off a Were’s back. She was the only one in the group that struggled to keep up, her talents not of the strength or speed variety. It necessitated a carry.

“Harriet is somewhere nearby,” Slash told the group at large.

“His scent, you mean,” Truman corrected.

Slash gave the new Were a hard look. “Perhaps.”

“Let's keep moving. It's him against us. He'll lose.” Jason was already moving toward Julia’s and Jacqueline’s scents.

“I smell adrenaline dipped in fear,” Ezekiel murmured.

“I see pieces of aura that mix,” Angela added.

“Whose?” Cyn asked.

“Jacqueline... and the Rare One.”

“So they are together,” Domi said.

The fey seemed to think it very important they all understood his planning prowess.

Slash remained unconvinced. If they scooped up Julia in their net and Jacqueline hadn’t harmed her again, then he might think better of the fey. But for the moment, Slash thought the Faeries to be an unknown for potential violence.

“I don't like leaving Tom Harriet as a loose string,” he said, catching his breath from the run.

“I don't either, but getting Julia is most important. Let's worry about that chump after we've got her safe.” Jason lifted his eyebrows, and Truman slapped him on the back.

“You're right, kid, but I'm with Slash on this one. I think it's a mistake not to flush this puppy out and work him over. He stole Julia. He's a pack master—”

“Was,” Adrianna interrupted.

“True... but he didn't get the memo on that, sweetheart. He still thinks he's top dog.” Truman turned to Angela, his eyes moving from their natural blue to his wolf’s green. “Do you see his aura? Maybe we lucked out and he bit it.”

Cyn laughed.

Slash frowned. The Were spoke differently and with much slang. A few curse words seemed universally understood, but this male used a metaphor every other phrase. It irritated him.

“No,” Angela said shortly. “He is very much alive.”

The group was silent except for the Reds, who circled the area, eager to move, wherever it might be.

Slash put his hands on his hips, absently scratching at the itchy material that barely covered him.

If the females had not been around, he'd go nude. But they were, and only one Were was in charge of packing clothes. They'd hit a thrift store as soon as they got to the nearest large town and suit up with used clothing.

He looked at the females and felt a pang of envy. Females could do a quarter-change. It meant all the speed without the looks and burst clothing. The ability was present for the contingency of pregnancy. They could not shift into fully wolves while carrying young. It was protective of the species and their procreation.

Only the eyes appeared wolfen, glowing and luminous. They shone back at Slash from the two women.

“We're going to need a supply run. Adrianna,” Slash called, and she jerked her face up, her normally brown eyes a light gray. Her wolf swam just beneath her surface; Slash could see it. Hell, his wolf could smell it.

“Don't, Slash,” Adrianna said.

He flushed. He'd been thinking too hard about her wolf, and it wanted to come out. “Sorry. I—” He looked at her, remembered his ugly mug, and looked away. “We'll need clothes and food.”

Adrianna turned to Cyn. “We've gotta get clothes for the dudes, and groceries.”

As if on cue, several stomachs voiced their empty displeasure.

Cyn laughed. “Men.”

“Let's go,” Jason said.

Slash reluctantly turned away from where Tom Harriet’s scent was strongest.

He left, Truman following where Slash's gaze had been, seeing nothing. Though his nose said differently.

In the darkness, Harriet watched them leave with guarded relief. His task force should be closing in.

He'd already thought about this contingency.

No one became a packmaster of his caliber without brains.

*

“Okay, here's what we'll do,” Julia began.

Jacqueline held up her palm for the second time they'd been traveling together. “Your talents are sporadic, yes?”

Julia hated to reveal anything confidential to Jacqueline, but now they were in danger. The greater evil and all that. Julia reluctantly nodded.

Jacqueline silently searched her face. “Do not be embarrassed. We all must
become
.”

Yeah.

“This is what I propose. The FBI shall not want witnesses to see they are Were. I assume they're after you. I will sacrifice myself to give you time to”—Jacqueline waved a small hand around—“make your fortuitous escape.” She arched her black eyebrows delicately.

“No way. They'll hurt you.”

“They can try,” she said quietly. “Yet, they are Reds. They will be loath to hurt a female of Were blood. And they will scent I am with child. There has never been a documented case of a Were harming a female with child.”

Julia's gaze went to Jacqueline's. “What about Tony?”

She regretted it the instant the words were released.

That dark gaze slid away from her and looked out the window, her expression terrible to witness. “I think it is a fair assessment to say he does not fit within the norms of the typical supernatural male.”

Julia's eyes flicked to the two behind them.

They were coming their way.

She leaned forward. “Maybe he's something new.”

Jacqueline brows came together.

“You guys didn't know much about the fey and look, there's an entire mound of them. All I'm saying, is Tony could be something else besides just Were.”

Jacqueline didn't answer.

A hand landed on their dinette, shaking the salt and pepper holders.

“Ladies,” the one on the left said. They wore identical suits, their eyes buried beneath dark and slightly reflective lenses. Julia figured if you couldn't see their eyes, then they were soulless.

They flashed their badges.

Of course, the ID looked authentic. Tom Harriet, the Red Were pack master from Homer, Alaska, was legit, too.

Julia wiggled her cold toes underneath the table.

“You can make this easy,” Leftie said smoothly, his strong hands a shadow of muscles rippling like disturbed water over his skin as he slid his badge home.

“Or you can make it hard.”

Julia scowled. Her belly was full, and all she wanted was a nap and Jason.

Home.

Region One was a dysfunctional mess, but she belonged there.

Julia looked at Jacqueline.

“Hard,” Jacqueline purred in an obscene word. The jagged edges of the old Jacqueline showed like a slip underneath a dress.

Obviously a deliberate choice, her switching gears still surprised Julia.

Leftie's gaze slid to Jacqueline, his nostrils flaring hard. “We don't want to hurt you.”

“That's what you two thugs think, but in the end, robbing someone of their freedom is the very worst thing you can do to your fellow beings.” Julia stood. She’d left the “human” part out.

Jacqueline stood as well.

Rightie's nostrils swelled as he took in their scent. “She is pregnant.”

Leftie sighed. “That complicates things greatly. You're a mongrel, but you have enough Were to preclude us from doing what we must to assure your compliance.”

Jacqueline opened the pathway of their minds.

Julia's mouth parted in a little O of surprise. Jacqueline had been working to keep her out since their earlier interchange.

I will cause a scene and you run. I am a powerful telekinetic. Trust in me.

Trust?

You must.

That was the true.

On my signal
.

Julia wondered what it would be.

When Leftie reached for Jacqueline's small wrist, the air by Julia moved. Jacqueline drove him through the first wall. The drywall sheet buckled, collapsing quickly to allow him to travel into the 1950s cinderblock behind.

He blew through the huge cement bricks, pots and pans clattering to the floor.

Julia recognized a clear signal when she saw it and took off.

She heard the sound of flesh being slapped and didn't look back.

Trust in me.

She felt like a jerk leaving Jacqueline.

Julia could only hope she was as defensible as she claimed.

She leapt down the stairs and into the arms of Leftie.

He locked strong arms around her in a bear hug. Julia sneezed from the spray of concrete dust plumes that exploded in her face.

Then a wash of blood as someone tore his arm off.

A sharp bark sounded, cut off with the prize in hand. Jason casually threw the limb behind him.

Julia's relief was so acute she wanted to sob.

Instead, she yelled, “Save Jacqueline!”

She had never uttered stranger words.

“What?” Jason yelled over the screaming patrons behind them.

The diner was emptying, screaming eaters running for their cars in a stampede.

So much for being subtle and preventing humans from getting a load of the supernatural turf wars.

“Jacqueline! She's in there with one of the Bozo-the-clown Feds!”

“I'm not leaving you!”

“Jace—she's pregnant...”

His eyes widened, then he shook his head. “Let the jolly green giant get her. He's the one that knocked her up; he can figure it out.”

As though summoned, Domiatri came rushing past them in a green streak.

Julia went to go after Domi, but Jason held her back. “No effing way. Let green boy take care of Ms. Jekyll and Hyde.”

Julia tore out of his grip. “I get it, but she tried to save me back there.”

“It's about damn time! You're not going. Your preservation instincts are about zero so I'll protect us both.”

A noise like a million eggshells being ground startled them, and they turned together.

A large tank rolled down the street.

“What the hell?”

“I think it's a firepower thing.”

“Run!” Jason yelled and jerked her after him. She ran full out, bare feet punctured by small rocks.

Julia didn't know tanks could be so loud. The gun rotated on the turret, grinding its shrieking ambition.

Jason ran to where the others had gathered.

Julia made out Tharell easily, the only purple man on the street.

“The witnesses will be gone in any event,” Tharell said in a droll voice as a boom that rattled Julia's teeth went off.

Truman jerked Cyn and Angela, putting them behind him. “What the blue hell?”

Julia scanned the environment for Adi and finally saw her next to Slash.

They raced toward Julia and Domi, and a limping Jacqueline brought up the rear.

Like agitated ants, men in military uniforms poured out of the top of the tank, their guns aimed at the four who hadn't made it across the road and into the patch of woods.

Julia screamed a warning. Adi had begun to lag. Slash tucked her underneath his arm and ran with her as if she was a clutch purse.

Bullets sprayed dirt at their feet as they ran.

But the real horror was the careful aiming at the diners. As if slapped by a giant hand, the bullets drove into them from behind, flinging them forward like broken dolls. They landed face first in the dirt and gravel.

“No...” Julia whispered.

She didn't realize she was crying until it dripped off her jaw.

“Those merciless fucks,” Truman said.

Tharell regarded him. “It is the way the humans deal with that which they do not understand.”

Julia turned to him in a fury, grabbing the once beautiful warrior's tunic and shook him.

It was like trying to shake a solid concrete wall. “Do something!” she screamed into his face.

Tharell gave a grim smile of acknowledgement. “I will try.”

The Sidhe made complicated gestures in midair.

A minute slipped by, and more people fell like cut trees. Julia could taste metal in the air and realized it was their blood.

“Hurry,” she said.

“It must be done properly,” Tharell answered without looking at her.

“What, for the love of God?”

“The spell,” he said, and suddenly Julia could feel the magic in the very air. It rushed past them and raised the small hairs on the back of her neck.

Julia gasped when the charged force struck the militia.

Instant chaos ensued. They ran into one another; some shot randomly. The remaining survivors, seeing the confusion, took off. Many remained motionless in a pool of their own blood and bits of their bodies.

“What's wrong with them?” Julia asked.

Adi reached them with Slash at her side and Domi half-carrying a beleaguered Jacqueline.

“Who gives a ripe good shit, let's get outta here!”

Domi chanced a glance behind him and smirked, giving Tharell a full wattage smile. “Nice work, Tharell.”

“I couldn't have you bleeding out there and ruining your perfect skin...”

“I'll heal,” Domi responded dryly.

“What are they doing?” Julia asked as one of the soldiers tripped over his feet into a graceless pile on the ground.

A Red Were strode to the fallen man and kicked him in the teeth. The soldiers head ripped partially off, canted at an awkward lean as he fell from his knees straight back.

“Okay... let's go.”

The stares of approaching Reds met Julia’s comment. “Oh my God!” she yelled and began to run.

Jason yanked her back. “Shh, Jules, they're okay.” He stroked her hair as they drew nearer.

“They're under me now,” Slash said.

“How'd
that
happen?” Julia tried not to let the caterwauling in the background distract her.
Holy smokes, I’m gone for a few hours and the Reds surrender?

“Fight for dominance,” Adi replied casually.

“It was way worse than that. More like fight to the death,” Cyn said. “These guys”—she jerked a thumb in the general direction of everyone but she and Jason—“make nothing out of all the ‘
I almost killed ya
’ moves.” She rolled her eyes. “Really? It's more like a sport.”

“It is not a sport, female. It is the Were way,” a Red said and immediately Julia knew he must be important within the hierarchy of the pack. He had a way of speaking with authority.

A low growl split Slash's lips, and a hard glance from the Were who had just spoken shut him up.

“That is Ezekiel.”

“Zeke.”

Slash leveled the smallest chin dip she'd ever seen at the Were and turned to Cyn. “We'll explain this on the way.”

“Great, 'cause, I'm dying to get out of here before more winners show up to kill defenseless Americans. Not. Cool.”

Julia cast a glance at Jacqueline. She looked positively haggard. Domi's eyes met hers. His gaze held assurances she didn't think he could really give. Jacqueline seemed to barely be hanging on.

Julia quickly appraised the group. Twelve new Were, all varying degrees of Red-blooded wolves. Tharell, Domi, Jacqueline, Adi, and Cyn followed closely behind, and as she turned away Scott, injured but managing, was there, held up by Lucius and Angela the Feeler at his sides.

They took their mixed bag of supernaturals and beat feet out of there.

*

Slash kept the pace deliberately hard. Only when Julia stopped them did he pause in his objective to put distance behind them.

Her feet were ribbons of gore. Filthy, bleeding, the soles torn from her travels.

“Oh my God, Jules,” Cyn said.

Julia nodded, gritting her teeth.

“Can you heal her?”

Cyn studied the Rare One's feet.

“I'll try, but it seems these reoccurring injuries are their own kind of stubborn.”

Scott crossed his arms, his healing abilities as Combatant having restored him perfectly. “We need to find some place to hole up.”

Cyn laid her hands over Julia's wounded feet, and she gasped from the pain.

Then groaned in pleasure as they began to mend.

Cyn shook her head. “This is the best I can do. We need to find some shelter... and some goddamned shoes.”

She sat back on her haunches, flinging her hands up. “Was it those flimsy Keds?”

Slash couldn't help the lift of his lips. It appeared to be a well-worn argument between the two. Apparently, some things didn't change.

“Yeah.”

Julia and Cyn looked at her Nikes on her own feet, dirty but intact. “Spend the money on footwear.”

“Coming from the UGG devotee,” Julia said, rolling her eyes.

Adi piped in, “Those stand for
fugly
in my opinion.”

Tharell put up a hand. “Though I appreciate the efforts at levity, I do like the suggestion of lodging, running water, and extra garments.” His gaze went to Julia's feet. “And footwear.”

“Where?” Zeke asked.

Slash searched the geography. Judging by the mountains to the east, they were coming close to Bellingham. “Twenty more minutes of walking and we'll spit ourselves out in Bellingham.”

“Big city?”

Slash thought about it. “Big enough. Ample camouflage, numerous eateries. We should be able to get what we need.”

“As long as Jules gets some shoes.” Jason picked her up.

“Put me down,” Julia said, indignant.

“Nope. We're not gonna undo Cyn's work. Don't worry, that little bit of weight you've packed on won't slow me down.”

Julia sputtered, and the males shared a good-natured laugh.

Some of Slash’s tension dissolved. The place of respite couldn't come soon enough.

There they would have plenty of time to dissect the new threat.

Slash felt he knew.

He hoped he was wrong.