Chapter 11
AT SOME POINT, the darkness began to fade and he knew he wasn’t going to die. He lay on the cold, bare ground, the sharp winter wind coursing through the night air, ruffling his fur. But he could feel the discomfort, and that meant he was alive. Hands wrapped around him, the scent of a woman filling his nose. He recognized her and the wolf in him identified the pack bond between them.
Voices floated in his ears and around his head.
“You can’t move him until I finish the healing. It was started, but there was too much hate in the one who did the healing. Too much anger.”
His wolf took another deep breath, scenting the two women who were arguing. Neither was his mate, both were shamans. A growl slipped past his lips and the hands on him increased in pressure in response.
“Be still, Liam. I can heal you, but this will take time.”
That was Louisa, her name floated to the front of his brain. Louisa was in New Mexico … he forced one eyelid up. It was like trying to lift a truck with one finger, but he managed.
The movement around him was a blur of bodies and faces. He caught sight and scent of a few he knew. But not Rylee.
He tried to whisper her name, forgetting he was still in wolf form.
“It’s okay, baby, I’m here.”
He rolled his one eye to see a panel of long dark hair swing down and brush his face. Her hand reached out to take something from under him. The copper knife that had caused him so much pain, that had almost killed him.
Something he didn’t want anyone else to have.
Snarling, he drove her back, his body barely able to lurch forward. She squealed and dropped the copper knife. The scent of burnt wood curled around him and then Blaz’s voice was there.
Get away from him, bitch. You are not his mate.
The woman backed away, her teeth bared at them both. “He is mine. He just doesn’t know it yet.” Liam struggled to understand how she had gotten here. Wasn’t she supposed to be in London? Not on the cold dirt outside of Louisa’s house.
With Blaz beside him, he lowered back to the ground. Louisa moved to his head.
“This may hurt, Liam. Try not to bite me, I like not being hairy.” Her hands smoothed along his jaw, down his neck and settled over the wound in his chest.
Pain was not the word, nor was agony. It felt as though the copper knife was being dug into the wound while on fire; acid burning his flesh couldn’t have hurt as badly.
A howl ripped out of him, but he kept his mouth away from Louisa. She would heal him; she had to.
Otherwise, how could he die for Rylee?
There was no time to wait. I made a fist and raised my arm; Pamela ran to my side. She snapped her hands in front of her and the zombies, dripping wet and covered with seaweed and barnacles, were lifted out of the water. She moved them toward the boat, dropping them on the deck as fast as she could. I did a head count. Fifty, and they were already going to work, disappearing into the depths of the boat.
But no witches came out to inspect who was using magic. Not one.
“Let’s go,” I barked out and then pointed at the gangplank.
Frank ran to catch up with us as we crossed the gangplank, one by one. The fucking thing shuddered underneath us and as Frank crossed, it slipped and fell, taking him with it.
I dove back, catching his hand before he fell far, though his eyes were wide and startled.
“Pam, little help here.”
She grunted. “Can’t, not with you touching him.”
There were moments my immunity to magic really sucked ass. This was one of them. Putting my feet against the edge of the boat, I pulled hard, Erik reached over and helped me haul Frank onto the deck. I didn’t give him time to be freaked out about what had almost happened.
“Make sure your zombies only go after the witches.”
Frank gasped a breath as he nodded, his hands on his knees. “Yeah, doing my best.”
Now came the fun part.
I led the way, Tracking witches and the three kids, but also now Tracking my dad. He was alive, but hurt. The threads of so many lives tangled inside my head and I struggled to keep it together. It had been a long time since the emotions of a salvage had been so rampant, longer still since they had caused me to slow down.
One thought rose above the rest. How in hell had the witches known about my parents? Had they been following us? It was the only answer that made sense. They knew we were coming.
Which also meant they knew we were here.
Fucking hell. “They know we’re here. We go in guns blazing. Got it?”
Frank and Pamela nodded in tandem, and she pushed her sleeves up her thin arms. “Everything we’ve got?”
“Everything. We have to kill them all.”
Frank paled. “What about those who don’t fight?”