Chapter 40: Grayson
"Any left alive?" I ask. Orion shakes his head. Kendrick is staring at the carnage with his hands on his hips. He's unassuming. Wearing tan cargo pants and a checkered button-up. His brown hair is a little floppy.
If he weren't covered in blood—if I hadn't just witnessed him slaughter three witches in one blow, as though he were simply wiping dust off a shelf, a feat I'd have trouble with considering they were casting against him at the time, and he brushed their magic off like a gnat—I might think he was harmless.
Kendrick looks up at the sky. I follow. It's about twenty past full. The magic is waning. Strong, still, but their entire circle is dead.
"Deidre," I say.
Kendrick looks at the house, not at me. "Let's go."
I nod and follow. One of Kendrick's wolves goes ahead of us, Orion at our backs. "Stay out here," I tell him. "Yell if there's trouble."
He nods in agreement. We enter through the greenhouse at the back.
And then…
Silas.
I smell him instantly.
The relief of it is short-lived when I find the bloody mess on the floor. What was once a man. Now… nothing but a pile of viscera and bone. I can smell Silas in the mess.
My brother did that.
It's… overkill.
Is it too late? Have we lost him forever? To the witches or his own sanity?
This isn't normal.
Kendrick steps around the blood. He doesn't look as appalled as I feel.
"I don't hear him. Or smell him anymore. He was here," I say, looking around.
"There's no one here, but—" Kendrick's words cut off. He freezes. An expression I've never seen on his face washes over him, through him. Panic, horror. And then he's off, and I'm following, toward the single heartbeat left in this house.
It's faint. But I recognize the scent.
She smells of Silent Peak.
Chills break out across my arms. "Lily!" I shout. "Lily!"
There, in the back of the house.
And then Kendrick is cradling her. Rocking her back and forth in his lap, prayers clawing out of his raspy throat.
"Holy shit," I whisper.
"She's okay. She's alive. It's the silver—" he feels around her neck, frantic. Then his lips wrap around the wound and he sucks.
It won't work like that—it's in her bloodstream, she has to work it out herself. He knows that. But he keeps trying to heal her faster.
"Kendrick. Kendrick!" I pull at his arm, gesturing to Lily. He snarls, all teeth and vulnerable rage.
"Jesus. She's yours, isn't she? Lily's your mate?"
Having just learned the name of his Moon Goddess blessed fated, tears well in the ancient wolf's eyes. He buries his face in her neck and whispers her name, like a chant.
