Death's Servant(34)

Resolve stiffens my spine. I may not have been able to save Raine, but I will follow through with my promise to this deadly creature.
Her eyes sharpen while she stares at me. “Well?”
“You can count on me, Dria.”
After a small nod she approaches the couple, crouching down to their level on the ground. “Are you the alphas of this pack?”
The man nods, his hand coming up to rest on his wife’s shoulder. “Yes. I’m Cliff and this is my wife, Kristin. Are you the one responsible for the end of our hell?”
A Were rushes forward with two pitchers of water and another hands a cup to each of the shrunken alphas. Dria hesitates in answering, letting the two drink their fill before continuing the conversation.
The scent drifting up from the water tells me it contains the same additives that healed me after I was drained by Cecil and his fellow addicts. I doubt one pitcher will bring these two back to anything close to resembling good health, but it’s a start in the right direction.
The sound of tires on gravel drifts to us from the side of the mansion, pulling the rag-tag group of victim’s attention toward the noise. The tension spilling off a few of them has me stepping forward to reassure them. “It’s not another vampire. The new arrival is a human here to help.” I motion toward Dria. “Just like she is.”
Cliff and Kristin manage to stand after drinking the entire pitcher, the proud bearing of their former leadership shining through the dirt and grime. Kristin steps forward first, her right hand extended in gratitude toward the vampire. “Thank you.”
Dria steps back deferring the credit to me with a wave of her arm. “I never would have come if it wasn’t for Jon. He’s the one you need to thank.”#p#分页标题#e#
Cliff steps up next to his wife. “From what the other Weres have reported, it’s your strength and... skill, that saved us.”
Dria looks uncomfortable at the gratitude and steers the conversation in another direction. “Cliff, we need to talk about your wolves.”
The tall, thin man looks around at his tattered pack of skinny werewolves. “Yes? What about them?”
Rafe’s approach from behind draws her focus away for a moment. The couple stares intently at one another for a moment, and then Rafe nods sharply. More of that silent communication I suspect is happening between the two, I bet. I’d like to know what the hell they were discussing.
Kristin speaks up, brushing her wildly unkempt and dirty hair from her eyes. “Is there something you wanted to say…Miss…?
Dria returns her attention to the alphas. “Please, call me Dria.” She gestures toward the building behind the group, where the couple had been imprisoned for five long years. “Can we talk inside? It will be safer.”
“Safer?” Cliff asks. “What more can happen to us?”
“My husband is here to set a fire in the mansion, to wipe out every trace of the vampire remains inside. We won’t light it until the pack is gone, but I need to work with the survivors and my task will take time—and solitude.”
Cliff glances to his wife, confusion and uncertainty marring both of their faces. After a brief moment they both nod. “You’ve proven your trust so far,” he says. “We’ll hear you out.”
They turn as one, the group nearby parting to allow them passage, and the four of us make our way into the low, long building. Kristin’s shoulders shudder when she crosses the threshold, but she keeps going, head held high.
There’s a grouping of old furniture just past the entryway. We stand in the middle, all of us looking to the vampire to see what she has to say.
Dria’s voice softens, the soothing tone cascading over my skin like a balm on a burn. “Your wolves’ minds have been damaged by the extreme control Cecil held over them for so long.”
Kristin’s face crumbles and tears trickle down her cheeks. She refuses to hide her pain and meets Dria’s stare head-on. “Are you suggesting their minds will never heal? That they will remain like this—shadows of themselves—for the rest of their lives?”
The redhead nods. “Yes. That is my fear. But, I can help them.”
“How?” Cliff asks, disbelief and weariness prominent in his voice.
“I can fix the worst of his mind meddling, but it will take me time to repair so many. Perhaps almost an hour per person.” She looks out the small window near the door, her face pinching with worry. “But…”
“Yes?”
“I won’t be able to completely erase their memories for so long of a time frame. I might be able to… conceal… the worst of the atrocities done to them—but not all of it. Not without a lot more time than we have and a plausible cover story you’d want me to insert.”