“Not predator, hmm?” Orion asked.
“You are predators, of course, and you obviously have your gifts of speed and strength. But you’re flawed.”
“How so?” Kraft asked, curious as to what Riley would consider a flaw.
“You’re too solitary. When you fight, it’s always one on one. Lycans are all about pack. As strong as you are, you’ll still fall under dozens of my kind. A lycan pack can feast on your entrails and brains before the sun comes up and long after, when you’re at your weakest.” She laughed. “And with a berserker? It’ll be game over, vamp.”
Orion started laughing. “She’s funny.”
“Hilarious,” Kraft quipped, aware of the faint scrape of movement he could hear from inside.
Riley must have heard it too, because she changed shape and rushed into the house, breaking through the front door.
“I thought we were going to take it slow.” Orion shrugged. “Guess not.” They drew closer, and he paused. “You smell that?”
With the door open, the putrid smell of old blood, rot, and something not of this world rushed out. Likely what Riley had smelled and caused her to bolt inside.
“I can’t help smelling that.” Kraft pushed past Orion to follow Riley. “But that blood I’m smelling isn’t human. It’s lycan.”
CHAPTERTHIRTEEN
Riley hurried inside,not liking the scent of dead lycans and fear coming from the dark house with a heavy presence. It enraged her, that her own kind had known terror while at the very end.
Most lycans lived to fight, to prove strength and dominance. Dying while in battle didn’t cause fear but elation. The stench assaulting her now came from torture and an unnatural demise.
She followed the scent down the dark hall, past emptied rooms, some in disarray. The house looked old, the decor from decades past. The scent of mold and dust was strong but not as overpowering as the soured blood coating the surfaces in the hallway she came to.
Ahead, she found backstairs and raced up, tracing the faint sound of movement. She paused when she saw the flicker of candlelight in one large room and stood in the doorway, snarling.
Men and women wearing dark robes, their eyes glazed, smelling of magic, sat around a large circle painted in blood on the floor. Symbols notched the circle, behind which each person had been stationed. Riley couldn’t tell if the practitioners were sorcerers or warlocks at first. Sorcerers, by definition, were magir and practiced dark arts. Warlocks were once human witches who had turned to sacrificial magic for enhanced power. Either way, they were up to no good.
She took a step closer and inhaled with a deeper focus, scenting the tainted magir blood under their skin. Sorcerers then. Just great.
They didn’t turn, too focused on chanting around the emaciated lycan barely clinging to life in the middle of the circle. Its patchy fur, lacerations, and labored breathing showed its poor state. Notits, she noticed when her eyes made contact.Herpatchy fur.
Alarmed that no one had reported any lycans missing, she wondered what the hell had been going on in this house. This lycan appeared to be the latest in a series of sacrifices, if the intense dead lycan smell in the house was anything to go by.
Granted, the packs didn’t tell each other everything. The Crimson Claw pack kept their disciplinary measures and minor tribulations to themselves. Presenting a strong face to outsiders was practically a lycan requirement. But several of her kind lay dead in this house, sacrificed to who knew what.
She growled louder to get the sorcerers’ attention. She wished she could telepathically link to the poor lycan in the circle, but she only shared that mental connection with her alpha and Max, her future alpha. She made do by using body language to communicate, the way her kind did in shifted form. Not an exact dialogue, but one that worked well enough.
Can you move?
No. But I’m happy. At peace.The poor lycan closed her eyes and let out a last breath.
Riley barked and growled, but the lycan didn’t move.
Knowing it to be foolhardy but beyond caring, she interrupted the spell these dickheads were casting. She lunged and knocked the nearest sorceress forward, forcing her to bisect the circle.
The moment she did, the sorceress screamed in horror as her clothes disintegrated and the blood rushed from every orifice in her body to join the circle. The lack of her presence now affected the others, and they struggled to move away from the magic pulling them closer.
One by one, the sorcerers were sucked up by the blood circle, the dead lycan lying peacefully inside. Riley didn’t like the dead dire being so close to magic. Had any of it tampered with poor lycan’s soul?
“What the hell is this?” Orion asked from behind her.
She’d heard the vampires approaching but was too concerned by the chaos in the room to give them much notice.
“Smells terrible in here,” Kraft complained. “Ah, someone you know?” He nodded to the lycan lying so still.
