Blood Vow (Blood Moon Rising) (34 page)

“Oh, trust me, when they returned and told us what happened, the packs were beside themselves with all the emotions. And Lucien and Rafael? Oh, gods! You couldn’t get near either one of them without getting your head bitten off. It was terrible, Falon. I wasn’t sure they, Rafe especially, could move on. We were terrified that without you we wouldn’t stand a chance against the Slayers.” Talia smiled. “But when one of the European pack alphas made a snide comment about you the other night, Rafael unraveled. I knew then we had a chance. And because the packs trust Rafael and Lucien, when they returned with you, it signaled they were okay with it, because of that trust, the packs didn’t question their judgment.”

“That’s amazing that they are so blindly trusting.”

“Not blindly. Rafael has never let his pack or any other pack down, and though Lucien’s methods of operation are um, less traditional, he, too, has never let one Lycan down. Then there is you, Falon. You’re an enigma to so many of the nation and your powers have become legendary. They know what you are capable of and pray that the power of the three trumps the rising. You have given Rafe and Lucien hope, and through them the entire nation hopes. I told you when we first met it was your destiny, I wasn’t kidding.”

Humbled by her words, Falon had none in response.

“It’s why when this camp went to hell in a handbasket, I came to you and made sure you were taken care of.”

“I will never forget your kindness, Talia.”

“I’m here for you always, Falon. Now we have to get packed.”

“I can’t find my clothing.”

“Um—yeah, Rafe kind of sorta burned all your clothes. He refused to go back into the tent. Lucien, too. It was really bad.”

“If that was the only casualty, I guess I’m lucky.”

“I have clothing for you. It’s not the chic stuff the guys bought you but it’ll do for now, and you have your moccasins.”

Falon smiled, and looked down at the handmade moccasins Lucien made for her. They were one of her prized possessions.

“I’ll bring you the clothes in a minute.”

* * *

HOURS LATER, THE entire camp had broken down and moved across the wide valley that was the first battleground backing up to the sea. The only way the Slayers could come at them was head-on from the valley, and if they were pushed to the edge, they would shift and dive into the water and swim down to a predetermined rendezvous point.

No sooner had they settled in for the night, did Fenrir’s terrible howl echo from their old camp. Armored and armed, the nation rose as one turning east. The howl echoed again, closer.

Rafael and Lucien moved to the edge of the camp facing east. With their swords in their right hands, they thumped the blade against the steel breastplate of their leather-and-metal armor. The sound rang out and, in the same battle-drum cadence, the entire nation thumped their swords to their armor.

Fenrir’s howls intensified furiously. The battle cadence picked up rhythm and volume, drowning out Fenrir’s howl. Long minutes later when the Lycan swords quieted, only silence filled the air around them.

Over the course of the next three nights the moon waxed, darkening from pink to red. Each night, Fenrir’s howls came closer growing in velocity. And each night the nation took to their battle cadence, always the last to retreat.

On the morning of the rising, dark foreboding clouds rolled in over the sea. Lightning and thunder raged overhead. On the eastern rise Fenrir howled and rose to show his terrible self. With the exception of Falon, Lucien, Rafe, and a handful of their pack, no Lycan eyes had ever set on the mystical wolf. They knew what to expect but the nation did not. And when they beheld the giant wolf, terror struck their hearts.

Lucien leapt up to the top of a van and turned to his people. “He is beatable!” he shouted. He extended his hand to Rafe who tossed him the Cross. Lucien raised it high above his head. “I hold the Cross of Caus! The sword of Peter the Wolf Corbet, the original Slayer! It is the only sword that can kill Fenrir! By night’s end, it will see that wolf slain, and it will set us free!”

The wind whipped up and tugged at the sword, as thunder crashed above them. Jagged bolts of lightning zigzagged in the dark sky. The nation moved anxiously, unsettled and worried even with the proof of the sword.

Lucien hopped down from the van and strode to where Falon stood with Rafael. “It’s nearly time, Falon. The sun will set in forty minutes, and the Blood Moon will be full on its rise.”

They had already discussed timing, she would venture out onto the battlefield surrounded by her pack, and do what she had to do to raise the ghost walkers, and pray she had enough time to do it properly before the Slayers or Fenrir got near her.

But Lucien and Rafael had not been idle their monthlong stay in Alaska. They had a few tricks up their sleeves to keep the Slayer hordes at bay.

As the sky darkened, Rafe, Falon, and Lucien hopped back on top of the van. “This is it, do or die,” Rafael began. “We survive this, we live in freedom, we succumb and the Slayers will not rest until every wolf is dead. For our survival we must stand toe to toe, and fight to our last breath until every Slayer has died the true death.

“Though the swords are deadly, never take it for granted that all you have to do is cut them. Go for the kill shot every time, don’t give them any quarter.” Rafael raised his sword, as did Falon and Lucien. When the three tips met, they sparked with energy. The nation raised their poisoned swords and cheered.

“Power, power, power!”

Rafael nodded and thumped his sword blade on his breastplate. The chanting continued as the nation thumped their breastplates and as the power of three leapt off the van, arms locked, they turned to the battleground and marched fearlessly toward their destiny.

Falon, Rafe, and Lucien shifted, as did pack Vulkasin. Surrounding the three, they ran for the center of the battleground. On the eastern side, the Slayers spilled into the valley.

The wind kicked and swirled, parting the dark clouds just enough to reveal the blood-colored moon. Rafael gave the command to fire, and thousands of arrows flew through the air, darkening it to black. As the arrows struck home, Lucien gave the signal for the spiked walls to be drawn. They flew up without flaw, stabbing anything in front of it with poisoned wooden spikes.

It was an awe-inspiring but terrifying sight.

Hurry!
Rafe called.
That will slow them only so long!

Falon turned back and shifted. Rafael took her right hand and slid the Eye of Fenrir from his hand. He held her gaze, and she saw the trust in his eyes. He slid the ring onto her right ring finger. It’s potent power sluiced hotly through her. “I won’t let you down, Rafa.”

Naked as the day she was born, she took her father’s sword and cut her forearm. She winced at the pain. Blood dripped in a steady stream to the ground. She took Lucien’s sword and did the same. It burned intensely.

The ground thundered beneath her as she looked up to see one thousand Slayers race toward her. Rafe handed her the Cross and she cut her wrist the deepest with that one. Pain seared her arm, but the three cuts blended into one thick stream. She held up the Cross and Lucien’s sword, the sword of his mother’s people. “Great Spirit Mother, Singarti, I, Falon Corbet Vulkasin, am of the two bloods! I reach out to you with a pure heart, the blood of my father, the blood of my mother, and the blood of Vulkasin. I demand you—”

Fenrir’s furious roar tore through her chant, the percussion of it knocking her over. Rafe and Lucien quickly righted her.

“I demand,” she shouted above the howling wind as she raised the swords again, “that the Lycan souls that have fallen beneath a Slayer sword be restored to life!”

Lightning struck the Cross, sending a lightning bolt of electricity straight into Falon. Heat so intense it did not register shot through her. She screamed and watched the horrified looks on Rafael’s and Lucien’s faces and behind them to the vicious deformed one of Fenrir as he dove through the pack for Lucien and Rafael whose backs were to him.

In slow motion she watched in horror as Fenrir’s fangs sunk into Rafael’s back.

“Noooo!” she screamed, and hurled the electrified Cross at him. It sliced into his right eye. Clawing at his head, Fenrir furiously roared. Lucien jumped at Fenrir, reaching for the sword as the wolf flung Rafael away and yanked the blade from his blind eye.

Howling mightily, Fenrir raised the sword triumphantly over his head. “Your power has failed to raise the ghost walkers!” he roared. “You cannot win!” The awesome power of the wolf did not intimidate Falon.

It was his words that terrified her. She had
failed
to raise the ghost walkers! The entire nation had looked to her to raise their loved ones, and with them fight the final battle. She had failed them all.

“We have just begun!” Lucien shouted, jumping high into the air behind the raging wolf. “Focus, Falon!”

Despite her doubt, Falon’s power churned within her. Building with the velocity of a hurricane. Concentrating on it, she manipulated the energy stirring it into a tight vortex, and then launched a ball of fire at him, slamming into Fenrir’s sword hand. The beast snarled angrily when the Cross dropped from his burning fingers and more when Lucien caught the sword. He tossed it up to Falon as she leapt over the wolf, and drew him away from Rafael, who lay wounded on the ground behind her.

In an explosion of battle calls and the sound of steel on steel, fighting broke out around them. After three hundred years of waiting, the battle was on. Fenrir grabbed a sword from the ground, and turned on Falon who faced him with the Cross. “You are no match for me alone,” he taunted.

“She’s not alone,” Rafael said from behind her, moving to her right.

Thank God.

“You’re going to lose this one, wolf,” Lucien said, taking his place on Falon’s left.

Fenrir laughed. “Your chosen one’s power is not so powerful after all! Even your great spirit mother is staying out of this one because she knows her powers are overrated.”

He laughed grotesquely. “Where are your precious ghost walkers?” he taunted, sweeping his long arm outward. “Gone forever, because you are a weak nation! And the Cross?” he pointed at it. “You have only one. And with it, one chance.” Fenrir’s red eyes blazed with hatred as they focused on Falon. “You will regret the day you were born when I am done here!”

Leaping into the air, Fenrir somersaulted over them, landing in the middle of dozens of Lycan. In seconds they lay in pieces on the blood-soaked ground.

“Coward!” Falon cried, leaping after him. But Fenrir was too fast. Even as he shred a bloody swath of Lycan in a matter of minutes, she was not fast enough to catch up to him. Zigzagging through the battlefield, he decimated one pack after another even taking out Slayers in his furious rampage.

With nothing left to destroy, having worked himself to the cliff’s edge overlooking the churning sea, the beast turned and faced Falon.

Triumph burned bright in his red eyes even as the blood of hundreds of Lycan dripped in rivulets down his grotesque body, pooling around his feet. Holding out his deformed hand to her, he said, “Come with me now, and the killing will end. Forever. My word is my oath.”

Falon stopped yards away from him as Rafe and Lucien moved in on either side of her. Clasping hands, the power surged between them. Their combined auras flared golden with power. “The killing
will
stop, Fenrir. Not because you deem it so on your terms but because I do on mine.”

Do not fail me now when I need you most,
she prayed to the gods. Raising their hands, Falon called upon the power of three, the power of the ring, and finally, the greatest power of all, her love for the two men beside her.

The wind kicked up around them, the sea rose ominous and black before them, as waves crashed violently into the cliff’s edge. “I command you, Fenrir, return to the ring!”

“I will never return!” he roared, backing up to the very edge of the cliff. “You do not possess the power to force me!”

“I command you, return to the ring!”

The Eye of Fenrir flared bloodred on Falon’s hand. Waves of power emanated from the eye, reaching out like a hand to the traitorous wolf.

“No!” he roared, the percussion of his roars blowing them back several yards. Fenrir snarled, raising his arms to the sky. Lightning struck his fingertips, emblazoning him with dark power. It was a weird and awesome spectacle. His body glowed, and shook as power shot through him.

Like Frankenstein after the electrical storm, new life surged through the wolf. His eyes narrowed. “You have awoken the beast,” he said menacingly, and threw his hands at the three of them, sending lightning bolts straight at them. They separated to dodge them and when they did Fenrir jumped into the air and focused solely on Falon, lighting her up with one jagged bolt after another. One struck her in the shoulder and, as if she had been hooked, Fenrir continued to rise into the black of night, reeling her in to him.

Rafael jumped up, and grabbed her right arm, Lucien her left, and pulled her toward them, but Fenrir’s power was too much. He continued to rise, pulling her with him, drawing her deeper into the turbulent sky.

“Release me!” she commanded. Wild wind tore at her hair; ripping her father’s amulet from her neck. Her hands clamped numbly to Rafe’s and Lucien’s, but she felt them slipping away. Rafe grabbed her leg, Lucien her waist, refusing to let go, but even the power of the three was not enough to stop Fenrir from dragging her skyward.

“Return to the ring!” Falon commanded again but her words were swept from her mouth by the wind before they were heard.

Rafe! Lucien!

Falon
, Rafe said, grasping her waist with his left arm.
Take the Cross and give it your best shot.

As she grabbed it from him, Fenrir struck it from her hand with another lightning bolt.

He laughed, and pulled her higher, faster. Her eyes teared, blinding her.

Fenrir roared furiously at the same time her body stopped its ascent as if she had been anchored to earth. His tyrannical hold on her loosened.