Spell-Weaver (6 page)

Chapter Eleven

Dyami lifted his arms to deflect the blow, grunting as the weapon bounced off him without even a scratch. Summer's symbol had worked. His wolf paced in the background, too weak to come out. Summer was right—whatever she'd done to him earlier was fading…fast. Without his wolf, he was practically defenseless. To make matters worse, the poison seemed to be lashing him more violently, as if it sensed another Huntress with evil intent.

“What the fuck?” Talia said, anger exaggerating her features.

“She must have etched on him.” Vic shrugged.

Talia lifted her second weapon. “Why isn't he transforming?” She moved toward him. “What's the matter with you, beast? Why are we not provoking your wolf to come out and play?”

Dyami felt Summer behind him, her little body tense and shaking as she peered around his side. She couldn't possibly be making sense of all this, even after what he'd confessed to her earlier. There hadn't been enough time to tell her everything so that she would understand.

“He must be sick,” Vic offered quietly in an effort to keep Summer from hearing. “We just need to subdue them both, separate them, and then you'll get your pelt.”

“You people are crazy!” Summer screamed, her voice sounding near hysterical. “What do you want from us?”

“It'll all make sense to you soon, love.” Vic positioned himself so that he could see Summer better. “I'm not going to kill him, I swear. You just need to trust me, okay?”

Dy snorted. The bastard wasn't lying—that was the shit part of it. A Hunter couldn't kill a werewolf, only a Huntress could do that.

“Trust you?” Summer snorted, her hands clenched tightly into Dyami's shirt, her body vibrating against him. “That's hilarious, Vic! You can't be serious!”

“Listen…Summer, right?” Talia said as she motioned subtly for the men to position themselves.

Dyami watched, his muscles coiled waiting for the attack. If he could get Summer into the bathroom, maybe she'd still stand a chance of getting away through the small window. He was screwed—there was no doubt about it—but maybe he could give Summer a shot at getting away. Let her make the choice later to find Vic, if that was what she wanted, rather than being taken by force.

The bathroom door was only a couple of feet from where they stood. She might just be scared enough to get her ass out of there without him.

“I know this all seems very strange to you,” Talia continued.

“Ya think?” Summer shifted when Dy did, as if she'd read his mind, understanding instinctively that he wanted her to get into the next room.

Talia chuckled. “I, too, grew up thinking I was human. Not part of the Order's fold. I had no idea that I was a part of this amazing legacy. Destined to battle the beasts. I must sound insane to you, but I have no other way of explaining it. You might not trust Vic completely right now, but in a few moments everything will make sense. I promise you that.”

“I am not buying what you're selling, lady, not even a little bit. You people run around hunting us, throwing knifes, swords, whatever that thing is…and you expect me to just accept it? Think, oh yeah, that's totally normal, I'll just go along with those crazy folks and everything will be okay.”

“‘You'll be hunted by your love.'” Talia turned her free hand out, palm up. “I told you the truth once, didn't I?”

Summer gasped. “Oh my god, you're the homeless woman.”

Dyami felt as a tremor ran through Summer's body. His muscles twitched. He wanted so badly to launch himself at them, annihilate them all, get Summer away. But without his wolf…

“You just need to have a little faith, Summer. Just like you did that day.” Talia's voice had grown soft, her words taking on a rhythmic quality that reeked of magic.

Talia locked eyes with Summer, her pupils growing large, seeming to leech all the color that was there. “Have faith in me, Summer. I'd never lead you astray. We are sisters. Born to fight the beasts.”

“I d-d-don't understand,” Summer stammered. “None of this makes any sense.”

“Don't listen to her, she's casting some kind of spell,” Dyami said “Don't look at her, Summer. It's a trap.”

Talia chuckled. “Really, beast? You expect her to believe that?”

The Hunters moved closer, just as in sync as Dy and Summer seemed to be, tightening their ranks and moving closer. Only a few steps more and he'd be able to shove Summer through the bathroom door and into safety.

“And what if I say okay, sure, I'll go with you? Would you let Dyami leave unharmed?”

Dyami growled. “No deal.”

Talia sneered at him. “Nah uh, can't do that. Won't even lie to you there. This man, this beast, is our enemy. Once you bond with your Hunter you'll understand your role as a wolf slayer. There will be no debate whose side you're meant to be on. Remember what I said? ‘You'll be hunted by your love.' This”—she pointed at Vic—“is your love. And he searched for you, hunting until he found his soul mate. Trust me on that, Summer. He's the only man who you can be happy with. Within him lies all of the answers you seek. He can give strength to your magic abilities, explain them, enhance your understanding, make you powerful.”

“What do you know about it?” Summer's voice rang with uncertainty. She seemed intrigued by this woman's words, falling for it.

“Don't listen to her.” Dyami pulled Summer closer to his body as if he could shield her from Talia's words.

“Just know, if you can't make this choice for yourself, we will make it for you.” Talia edged forward. “You cannot side with the beast.”

“Really, you expect me to believe that Dyami's some kind of monster?”

“A monster, a beast.” Talia shrugged. “However you wish to call him, it's all the same.”

Dyami could feel the edge of the doorframe against his heel as he shifted them again. He pushed his hands back, holding Summer's hips and forcing her behind him more.

“He can transform into a wolf, Summer. That's what we've been trying to show you. But there's something wrong with him.”

“A wolf.” Summer froze. A heartbeat passed. “There's nothing wrong with Dy. He's stronger than you.”

Dyami's pride surged. She may not understand or fully accept it, but she wasn't buying into the Hunters' shit.

“That's a lie and we all know it.” Vic leveled his gun at Dy's head, determination set on his face. “Beast, whatever she used to protect you is gone. I can feel it dissipating. I'm not going to miss. You should thank me for being merciful. At least you'll be unconscious when Talia takes you out.”

Dyami pushed Summer back, crouching as he did. He yanked her along with him, pulling her down. She let out a startled yelp as Vic's gun went off and wood from the door splintered above their heads. Dyami spun and shoved her into the bathroom. Her eyes went wide as he forced her in, her fingers losing grip on his shirt, his arms, finally his hands.

“No!” she screamed.

He shook his head, reached for the door to pull it closed, then felt the bite of something hard embedding in his back. Poison burned once again, amplifying what was already there. He collapsed into Summer, knocking her down under his weight as his beast roared within. His body contorting, spasming, unable to transform, to defend, the poison from another Huntress's weapon searing through him.

There was a growl. He couldn't tell if it was his or not, his ears ringing, vision fading. He breathed in Summer's scent. Her hands were covered in blood as she reached behind her and whipped a towel forward. She yanked the blade out without hesitation, putting pressure against the wound as she tried to staunch the flow.

She was hysterical, the Hunter's hands reaching to her that she batted away, screaming, cursing, fighting to stay with Dy.

And then she froze, time seemed to anyway, her tear-soaked eyes wide with disbelief, with fear, with confusion.

Dyami craned his head, squinted his eyes, the glare of the afternoon sun shining a halo around the one thing he never thought he'd see again. The biggest motherfucking black wolf he'd ever known came crashing into the room.

Mayhem had arrived.

Chapter Twelve

Everyone was talking about wolves and Summer thought they were motherfucking nut jobs…until she saw it herself. In the midst of all the chaos, Dyami bleeding, his body contorting, spasming in seemingly painful ways. And then these crazy people grabbing for her—Talia, Vic—trying to pry her away. Suddenly, quite inexplicably, there was a wolf. It was big, black, growling low, menacing. Its eyes conveying emotions, like a human would. As strange as that sounded, there was anger there, determination too. And there was blood dripping from its snout, its fangs coated.

Blood.

Everyone in the room seemed to realize this at the same moment. The wolf's muzzle was dripping with blood. All eyes snapped to look past the animal. Talia screamed. Vic jumped to defend, gun raised, firing as Talia ran to the fallen man on the pavement outside. Her moans spilled into the room once she got to him, testament enough that he was dead, that he had been someone important to her.

Bang. Bang. Bang.
Summer had never heard anything so loud in her life. She jumped, her body shaking with tremors of fear, the smell of sulfur wafting toward her.
Bang. Bang.
How many bullets did a gun have?

Both remaining Hunters were shooting now, too much sound. She flinched each time, wanted to cover her ears but couldn't release Dyami. She should have felt something—protected, at least, by the unending ammunition, but she didn't. Tears slid from her eyes, popping free with each shot, uncontrolled by her. This was insane. This didn't happen.

Suddenly, there was more than one wolf. Two more dark ones entered, their eyes golden, mesmerizing.

Summer's brain cycled through the impossibility of it all. She and Dyami were forgotten, blocked from the wolves by the two Hunters, who were taking turns letting a clip fall and reloading. Keeping the animals back but not killing them. How was that even possible?

“Summer.” It was a croak that she barely heard. There was too much chaos around her, her ears ringing now, her body growing numb, a constant vibration of fear, amazement, possibly shock.

She looked down at Dyami, his head cradled in her lap, her one hand pinned beneath him where she still held the towel in a vain attempt to staunch the blood flow. The towel was soaked, and she didn't have to look to see that blood now coated her hand.

“Don't be frightened.” His pupils were dilated, his lips cracked. She knew he was dying. She knew it as a fact. The poison she felt, the magic that was in him, was stronger. Something about the new wound was making him sicker than he had been before.

“Yeah, right,” she teased, trying to smile away the tight grip of fear. “You say that now, but you haven't seen the massive fucking wolves that are coming for you.”
Coming for us.
Another tremor of fear rolled through her. Not totally numb then.

There was a loud crack and she snapped her eyes up to see one of the wolves had broken away—had somehow positioned itself behind the bed. And was using it as cover? How was that possible? The bed moved again, pushed toward the Hunters. The wolves would be able to get closer now, a fraction of an inch at a time. She knew those animals were coming for her. She could feel it.

“Summer.”

He drew her attention back, her mouth agape. “Dyami, the wolves—”

“Don't be frightened.” He swallowed with difficulty. She wished she could give him some water. “It's Mayhem.”

She heard him wrong, leaned down to catch his words. “What?”

“The wolf, it's Mayhem.”

With a frown, she snapped her gaze to lock with his. He was hallucinating, had to be. “What?”

“His eyes, Summer, look at his eyes. Captivating.” He coughed and there was blood on his lips. “That's what you said.”

She closed her eyes, forcing the flow of tears back, the tears that admitted he was dying. Delusion came before death, didn't it? Mayhem? In wolf form? She closed them tighter.
Can't look. Won't.

The wolves were closer. She knew by their snarls, a loudness that could only be feet away. The Hunters were cursing, shouting for Talia, who would not come.

Dyami was dying. His blood was oozing through her fingers now, dripping on the floor below and soaking into her pant leg.

What was she feeling? She concentrated on that. She was losing him. A man she'd just met. A man she kinda felt she didn't want to live without. She opened her eyes again, refusing to look at the battle. Why look? The wolves were moving closer, the men certain to die, their bullets doing nothing more than delaying the inevitable.

“I don't know what to do.” She choked on her words, a sob catching in her throat. “You need a hospital.”

“I need you…” he started, coughed some more, closed his eyes.

“Dyami?” The tears seeped out of her eyes, down her cheeks. Her heart clenched, stuttering. “Oh God.”

He breathed out, groaned, opened his eyes to stare at her. “I need you to not be afraid.”

She shook her head, tears flowing freely. “I can't help it.” She was beyond afraid.

“You can help me if you're not scared.” He closed his eyes again. “Trust your gut.”

She waited for him to say more. She stared at him, his chest barely moving. It was coming. Death. She felt that too.

The shots stopped suddenly, and she didn't want to see what was happening—the noises were terrifying enough. She stared at Dyami's chest, counting between breaths. One…two—a snarl, wood splinting, Vic bellowing—three…four—a yelp, a growl, grunting—five…six—something ripping, tearing, screaming—seven…eight—silence…silence…

She squeezed her eyes shut. Her body shaking with fear. She felt the wolves approach, rocked back, her leg nudging something hard, long, cold.

The wolf's breath washed over her. She reached down, knew what she was feeling.
I will not die like this.

She curled her fingers around the weapon she'd pulled from Dyami, opened her eyes and beheld golden ones glaring back at her.

She screamed as she pulled the weapon from under her leg, brandishing it as she'd seen Talia do, uncertain if she had the strength to do any damage. It had an immediate effect. The wolf yelped, jumped back. Frightened of her? She hadn't even done anything. She frowned, gripped the weapon tighter and waved it in front of her. The wolf moved back farther, the other two falling in line.

“That's right!” she growled. “You stay back!”
Don't look behind them. Don't focus on the blood coating their muzzles. Vic's legs not moving…
“Stay the fuck back!”

She shifted Dyami's head from her lap, pushed herself to her knees. Holding the weapon in front of her, ready to strike if forced.
Hoping
she was ready to strike if forced.

One wolf wrinkled its nose, drawing its fangs for her to see. A low growl slithered out of its mouth. The biggest of the group gave a growl in response, nudging the first one with its head, moving it out of the way.

Summer took in the formation, realizing that the two smaller wolves—
smaller
being a laugh out loud description as they both seemed to tower over her kneeling form—were actually shielding the biggest. The black one. The one who had killed the first Hunter.

It pushed forward, and parted the other two, who were obviously reluctant to let him pass. And there he was. Huge wouldn't even begin to describe his size. Gigantic. Monstrous.

She shook the weapon, as if warding him off. “Stay back, beast, or I'll…I'll…hit you!”

Hit you?
Seriously needed to work on her words.

The wolf ignored her threat. Naturally.

It nudged at Dyami's foot and she felt a flare of protectiveness so profound she had to actually stop herself from launching at the thing. “He's not yours!” She jumped to her feet, straddled Dyami, weapon pointed down, ready to stab, ready to do whatever it took to keep Dyami safe.

The wolf looked up at her, gave its head a shake, whimpered… Whimpered?

She locked eyes with it and gasped.

Blue. Mesmerizing. Captivating. They sparkled in such a way. A way with which she was intimately familiar.

Dyami's words flowed through her.
“Trust your gut.”

The wolf nudged Dyami's foot again, licked his big toe. Not in a way that said hunger, either.

She couldn't believe what she was seeing. Those eyes. She could get lost in them. She had for years, every time she tried to draw his face. She could never mistake them for anything else.

“Mayhem?”

The wolf bowed its head. Snorted. Nudged Dyami's leg, shifting up his body and closer to her.

It looked up at her again, beseeching her to move away. What was she seeing?

“Trust your gut.”
Dy's words echoed in her mind.

A thousand heartbeats seemed to pass. Silent communication with a wolf.

Finally she knew what to do. She stepped back, lowered her weapon. One of the other wolves growled sharply, then turned and sprinted out of the room.

She watched as the black wolf—Mayhem—sniffed and licked Dyami's unmoving form, nudging his hand, his arm, finally using his paws and teeth to flip Dyami on his side and expose the wound. She gasped when Mayhem ripped away what was left of Dyami's shirt, watched with awe as he licked the blood surrounding the entry point—cleaning then examining, like he was sentient. Aware. Like he was a human in wolf form.

“Is he going to live?” she croaked, feeling weird talking to an animal, not knowing what else to do.

Mayhem stopped his tending to Dyami's wound, locked eyes with her again. She saw sorrow there.

Something crackled, like a snap of electricity. Summer looked up to see two women enter the room. One with shorter dark hair seemed to survey the scene with detachment. “Look at this mess, boys! You really need to start letting me in on the battles before the destruction!” Then she started muttering words that Summer couldn't understand and things began to change.

The other woman came straight for them, bypassing the dark haired one and laying a stroke of familiarity on the back of the smaller wolf. She glanced at Summer briefly, her blue eyes all concern as she gave a reassuring smile. “Will you let me touch him?”

How strange. Those were not the words Summer expected to hear. She frowned, looked down at Mayhem as if seeking direction, then at Dyami, whose face was impassive, his lips parted slightly.

“Trust your gut.”

Summer looked back up at the woman. “Yes. Please.”

The woman knelt down beside Dyami, then helped Mayhem shift him completely over. She gasped. “Another Huntress injury?” She was talking to Mayhem, a silent conversation that needed no more words, resignation on her face. She shook her head before putting her hands on either side of the wound, closing her eyes, her expression suddenly a mask of concentration.

Summer shifted her gaze up, gave her own head a shake. The room was alive with electricity—with magic, she knew. She could taste it, similar to what she felt with her symbols. The bodies were gone.
Poof!
Twirling into ashes and carried out the window. The gore vanished before her eyes, the broken furniture fixed itself, all in a torrent of movement, orchestrated by this strange woman standing in the middle of it all, her lips moving, eyes closed, hands spread before her.

And the wolves—the wolves looked on.