Part 35 (1/2)

But I couldn't do anything right then. Too cold. Too empty. Sounds around me grew softer and softer.

A face suddenly loomed over me, blocking the sky with its shadow. A small Were by its smell, breathing heavily, and dripping moisture from his half-morphed mouth. A part-man, part something else. A meerkat?

Stubby in size, yellowish-brown fur. Sort of like an elongated rat or woodchuck. Not as dangerous as the other Weres rampaging through the park grounds.

Weren't meerkats supposed to protect villagers from the mood devil; another name for Weres? Frau Fa.s.sbinder would love the irony.

Thoughts flitted here and there. Memories. Regrets. The might-have-beens. I struggled up through the fog growing thicker around me.

The Were looked over his shoulder. ”She's still alive.”

Not for long, rat face. I'd show him.

”Good.” Another voice rolled over me, deep timbered and unfamiliar. ”He wants her in one piece.

He?

The meerkat's chuckle rasped along my nerve endings. ”Not sure she'll stay in one piece with a s.h.i.+fter's bite. Probably die.”

”She could turn.”

”Nah, most females don't make the transition.”

I wanted to shout, I'm here. I can hear everything you idiots are saying. But no words came.

Just as well. My brothers always told me my mouth was my biggest weapon, one that backfired more than helped.

Van? What happened? And Bran?

As if I'd spoken aloud the meerkat glanced to the near distance beyond where I lay. The last direction from where I'd seen Van. ”You see that wolf s.h.i.+fter? Brown and black pelt?”

”Yeah.” A harsh chuckled was followed by, ”He ain't moving now.”

They couldn't mean Van.

The meercat shook his head. ”Doesn't look good.”

”Dead?”

Noooooo.

”Oui. Other one's not in much better condition. What was he? Mage?”

”Warlock. He wasn't supposed to survive. Only her.”

The meerkat glanced back at me. ”Then we best get going with her. She dies and it'll be our heads.”

Hands reached beneath me, spiking the pain till I screamed out.

Van was dead. Bran had killed him.

Nothing left.

I welcomed the darkness.

CHAPTER 71.

Where the b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l was she?

Bran glanced over to where he'd last seen Alex's body, crumpled and b.l.o.o.d.y, but she was no longer there. Had she only been slightly wounded by Van's attack and managed to get away?

Not likely. Not from what he'd seen. So where was she?

Francois was still battling Weres over by the saut-de-loup, herding them like a sheep dog until they tumbled into the drop. The trench on the other side wasn't going to hold them for long, but they'd be out of sight as soon as the human gendarmes arrived. Which they would. Any moment.

Alex's team had limped away. Humans, even with strong abilities, didn't fair well when matched against Weres and fae in their human forms.

Bran knelt beside Alex's brother, aware the only thing keeping the wolf from killing him was the most recent containment spell Bran had managed to cast. A weak one except it was tainted by the blood coating Bran's side.

If he moved the spell would break, which would unleash Van on anyone in the area. But everything inside him screamed to find Alex. She needed him. Now.

Whether she ever admitted it or not.

Out of the corner of his gaze Bran caught the flash of a cinnamon wolf with black bands racing toward him. Friend? Or enemy drawn by the scent of blood?

Didn't matter as Bran struggled to his knees, the better to brace for an attack.

Something about the black striping the wolf's tail seemed familiar. An earlier attacker? Or . . .

The wolf pulled up short about three meters out, crouched, his eyes golden bright, his lips stretched back into a growl that raised the hackles along Bran's skin.

But while it was Bran being threatened the animal's gaze kept s.h.i.+fting to Van as if trying to figure out why the other wolf wasn't moving, except for his eyes spitting fire.

”You a friend?” Bran asked, using his one free hand to point to Van. ”You know Van? Know this wolf?”

Just then a gunshot sounded. A spilt second later Van yelped.

What the- Van sprang back as if propelled then folded, a puddle of blood pooling around him.

A quick glance around didn't show a threat. Must have been a sniper, targeting Van specifically. The same one who'd hit Bran no doubt.

Bran leapt forward but the other wolf was there first. The growling changed tone, not enough to have Bran trust but enough to give him hope.

The containment spell was broken. When he felt for a pulse on Van's neck, nothing.