ReAwakened Page 5

  Clenching my jaw, I closed my free arm around the creature’s throat, digging my nails into the rough fur on its neck. It growled and loosened its grip slightly before adjusting and biting down even harder. Just as I was thinking that it would rip my arm off, Hunter appeared by my side. Raising a sharp butcher knife over his head, he plunged it deep into the werewolf’s stomach. The beast cried out, withdrawing its fangs from my shoulder, allowing me to escape its deadly grasp. Its entire body shook as it lost its were-form, immediately transforming into a man—a very dead one, at that.

  “Are you okay?” Hunter asked, nodding his chin toward my mangled shoulder.

  “I’ll live,” I panted, gritting my teeth as I tried to ignore the throbbing ache that was spreading from my shoulder, through my arm, and down the entire left side of my body. I didn’t have time to dwell on the pain as a loud growl erupted from the back of the house.

  “Follow me!” I instructed Hunter, rushing toward the kitchen.

  Brooke and Sophie were cornered by the remaining attackers. The girls stood their ground, their expressions stoic and brave, though their terror was apparent in their trembling hands. They clutched long, silver knives, waving them in front of the weres, while Seth frantically rummaged through the drawers.

  “Why doesn’t this guy own more knives?!” he cried, grimacing at the spatula in his hand as one of the beasts advanced on Sophie.

  Standing on its hind legs, it used the massive weight of its body to push her against the wall, placing one paw on each side of the tiny girl’s face. An involuntary whimper escaped her lips as the werewolf bared its fangs and leaned forward. Its breath fogging the lenses of Sophie’s glasses, it slowly advanced on her throat.

  “Get away from her!” Brooke screamed, giving out her own unique version of a war-cry as she sliced at the creature with her knife. The blade connected with one of its hind legs, but failed to deter it. Brooke raised the weapon again, just as the second beast enveloped her with its massive body, sending her tumbling to the ground. Seth rushed to Brooke’s aid, striking at the wolf with all his might as Hunter and I darted in to help.

  Diving on top of Sophie’s attacker, I thrust my elbow between the were’s shoulder blades, hammering its spine. The beast roared and turned on me. It snarled angrily, lunging toward my injured shoulder. As it stretched across my body, I grabbed its neck with my good arm, rolling it to the floor in a headlock.

  “Sophie—your knife!” I yelled.

  “I don’t want to kill it!” she cried.

  But as the werewolf broke free and leapt at her again, she instinctively moved the knife in front. The were’s eyes widened as the sharp blade pierced its chest. Sophie gasped in surprise, absorbing its weight as the dead creature collapsed on top of her. I rushed to move the now-human female from atop Sophie’s smaller frame.

  Meanwhile, with their combined efforts, Brooke, Hunter, and Seth had managed to repel the last attacker, sending it fleeing out of the house.

  Spent and visibly shaken, we collapsed to the floor.

  “What the heck was that?” Brooke asked, gasping for breath.

  “A werewolf attack,” I said. “I think.”

  Hunter looked around the room in a daze. “I’ve never seen werewolves like that.”

  “Me neither,” Seth added. “I thought all werewolves looked like those tiny creatures we met in that weird forest utopia tribe last summer—all hippie and useless.”

  “Before you start complaining about useless people, maybe you should get rid of that spatula,” Brooke interjected. “Unless you’re planning to cook us dinner or something.”

  Seth glanced at the spatula, sheepishly dropping his futile weapon.

  “I killed one,” Sophie said quietly. She wrapped her thin arms around her shivering body. Her eyes tentatively drifted to the dead werewolf on the floor. “She was just a girl.”

  “A were-girl who was trying to kill you,” I corrected, taking her hand into mine. “You had no choice.” I gently rubbed her skin, waiting for her shaking fingers to still.

  She shot me a perplexed look. “Are you sure that those things were actually werewolves?”

  I considered everything I knew about werewolves. Unlike the terrifying creatures in films and books, real-life werewolves were pacifists. Not to mention, in their were-forms, they were miniscule and weak. The group that had attacked us could only be likened to werewolves on steroids. Lots and lots of steroids.

  “I’m not a hundred percent sure, but let’s see if we can get some answers,” I said.

  Back in the living room, I bent over the creature Hunter had stabbed. Placing my fingers against the jugular of its now-human neck, I checked for vital signs. No pulse. Next, I examined the man lying on top of the broken table. He was unconscious, but I could hear a faint hiss of shallow breathing. With the team’s help, I raised the comatose werewolf by his arms, careful not to wake him up as we dragged him to the couch. His dark lashes fluttered and he gave out a gruff snort, but he didn’t open his eyes.

  “Get me something to restrain him with,” I ordered as he began to stir. “And definitely get me a blanket,” I added, averting my eyes from his bare body.

  Seth reappeared seconds later with a long extension cord.

  “Remind me to never go on a treasure hunt with you,” I groaned, glancing down at the thick plastic cable.

  First the spatula, now this.

  Fearing that the werewolf would wake before I had a chance to find a more suitable restraint, I used the extension cord to tie his hands and feet as best as I could. Brooke handed me a blanket, and I managed to drape it across the man’s body just as he came to.

  Never wake a sleeping dog. Or a naked werewolf on steroids, in this case. The moment his eyes snapped open, the man began thrashing around, snapping and snarling at us. It was as if his steroids were on steroids.

  “We need to talk,” I said, struggling to keep him confined to the couch.

  He twisted out of my grasp, yelling maniacally. His head came into contact with my own, blurring my vision for an instant. It took all five of us to subdue his outburst.

  “Stay still and we won’t hurt you,” I said calmly. I rubbed my temple, massaging the pain away. “We have some questions.”

  “What makes you think I’ll give you answers?” he spat, his voice gruff and surly.

  “This,” Hunter said as he pressed his knife against the werewolf’s throat.

  “Easy,” I whispered, placing my hand on Hunter’s arm and gently guiding it away. “We’re not asking for answers,” I told the were. “We’re demanding them. You’re in no position to bargain.” I tightened the knot around his wrists. He let out a small groan, but didn’t speak.

  “Who are you?” I asked.

  He refused to respond. His eyes burned directly into mine, cold and challenging.

  “Answer the question.”

  He shook his head.

  “What are you doing here?” I pressed.

  Again, he didn’t say anything.

  I bit back a curse and peered sternly into his dark eyes. “The sooner you tell us what we need to know, the sooner we’re going to let you go.”

  No response—not even a flinch.

  “Dawn, this isn’t going anywhere,” Hunter said, tightening his grip on the knife.

  “Maybe we should try a more intimidating approach,” Seth suggested.

  “Do whatever you wish. I’m not telling you anything,” the werewolf growled, unblinking. He had such an unnerving, calculated way of speaking—as if all of his answers were programmed into him. Even torment and suffering, I realized, wouldn’t extract his well-guarded secrets.

  “Can’t we, like, do what mobsters do in movies?” Brooke whispered in my ear. “Break his paws or something?”

  “We’re not going to torture the answers out of him,” I told the team firmly, trying to keep the mounting frustration out of my voice. There was no way that I was going to allow the werewolf to suck me into whatever game
he was playing. “I’ll figure out another way. For now, let him cool off while we try to tackle some of this mess,” I instructed, cringing at the broken furniture and shattered glass littering the room.

  By the time the clock struck midnight, we had Sebastian’s house back in order. During the hours that had passed, our prisoner had stopped trying to writhe out of his bonds. In fact, he sat perfectly still, his dark skin drained of life, morphing into a frightening shade of deep purple. His breathing turned shallow, and he began to tremble. First came the slight tremors, then the more violent shakes. When I went to check on him, he was burning up with a high fever, completely unresponsive. He then began foaming at the mouth as his body started to vibrate, his head thrashing around violently. Hunter and Seth rushed to my side, and together, we held the werewolf down as he seized for what seemed like hours. When his seizure passed, Sophie gave him water, but he simply gazed at her, letting the liquid dribble down his chin.

  “There’s something really wrong with him,” she whispered, slowly backing away.

  Suddenly, he spoke. I strained to decode the barely intelligible words, but could only make out “need” and “eat.”

  Thinking back to everything I knew about the werewolf vegetarian diet, I quickly said, “Fruits, vegetables—we have to get him a meal. Hurry!”

  I tried to determine the quickest way to get some food at this time of night. Sebastian, being a vampire, wasn’t very likely to stock his fridge with fruit smoothie materials.

  Before I had a chance to act, the werewolf moaned and spoke again, “No fruit.”

  Brooke shook her head. “Sick or not, this isn’t a five-star restaurant, Fido. You’ll eat what we give you.”

  “You don’t…understand,” he said, wheezing. “I need…” He paused, his dark gaze zeroing in on me. “…your blood.” The desperation in his voice sent a shiver down my spine.

  “Did I just hear what I think I heard?” Seth asked.

  Hunter nodded. “I’m afraid so.”

  “Okay, this has officially passed the point of creepy,” Brooke groaned.

  All the while, the werewolf held me captive with his eyes. I took a deep breath and knelt back down in front of him. “What do you mean, you need blood?”

  He gritted his teeth, struggling to form a coherent sentence. “If I’m going to make it through tonight, I’ll need some of your blood.”

  I didn’t like the way he said blood. Or, your. Or, well, anything that was coming out of his mouth.

  “Wow, this guy’s not only a picky eater, now he’s a food critic too,” Brooke grumbled. “I’ll need some of your blood,” she mimicked. “Only your blood will do, Dawn.”

  “I’ll gladly offer him yours, if you wish,” I told her, then turned my attention back to the werewolf. “If you’re going to be getting anything, you’re first going to cooperate and answer some questions.”

  The werewolf looked down at his bound hands. As another bout of tremors overtook him, he gave in. “What do you want to know?” he asked in a barely audible voice.

  “Everything,” I responded. “Who are you? What are you doing here? Why in the world would you need blood?”

  He shut his eyes and took a deep breath. “A werewolf. Following an order. To live.”

  “You’ll have to do a bit better than that if you plan on accomplishing that last part,” I said, grappling with my patience.

  He was starting to foam at the mouth again. “My name is Quinoa Sky,” he said finally. “I’m from a werewolf tribe a few hours north of here. Last year, an unusual illness took over our entire clan. We were losing members every single day.” Quinoa paused. His expression softened, turning from agony to forlorn sadness. “There was no help. No cure. We even tried the traditional medicine route, but it only aided in speeding up the virus. Within the year, we were on the brink of being wiped out—down to less than thirty members.”

  He stopped speaking again, this time, his entire body was overcome by a coughing fit.

  “Last month, we were approached by a powerful vampire who promised us a cure in exchange for our loyalty. At that point, we were desperate and ready to try anything. We swore our allegiance to this vampire, and, in exchange, our entire tribe received the healing elixir. The vampire’s blood.” Quinoa’s breathing was becoming visibly more labored.

  “It took less than a week for the power of the blood to take effect. Not only were our symptoms gone, but we were faster, stronger, bigger—completely transformed. But, in order to survive, we now needed a continuous supply of blood; thus forever indebting us to our new vampire master. Everyone has a price, right?” Quinoa looked off, as if embarrassed by this admission.

  “Who is the vampire?”

  He didn’t seem to hear me. “You’d be surprised how easily one’s will bends when his life—and the lives of those he loves—are at stake,” he said.

  “Who did this to you?” I prodded, but my question went unanswered.

  Quinoa was off in his own world. His eyes glazed over, and his breathing slowed until it was almost non-existent. “I lost my little boy, you know…Kale.” His whisper was barely audible.

  “Quinoa…” I placed a hand on his arm. He didn’t seem to register my voice or my touch.

  “Now, we’re just pawns. We live to serve. Otherwise, we don’t live,” he coughed, sputtering up blood. “It’s as simple as that. The vamp says ‘fetch me the girls,’ we obey.”

  “By girls, do you mean Born vampires? Who is your master?” I had so many questions.

  Quinoa opened his mouth to respond, but the gesture took great effort and he closed it again. He shut his eyes, slumping deeper into the couch. “I’m tired. So tired…I just want to be with my little boy,” he said. “I want to see him smile again. I want to hear his voice...” Silent tears rolled down his cheeks as he trailed off.

  “We should do something,” Sophie said, blinking back her own tears. “We need to help him.”

  I quickly extended my fangs and pricked my finger, immediately drawing blood. I moved next to Quinoa and offered him my hand. The metallic smell of iron caused him to open his eyes, but he simply looked down at my finger and shook his head.

  “I can’t do this anymore,” he said. He looked at me with more clarity than he had all evening. “I’m done.”

  A hush fell over the room. As I untied Quinoa’s arms and legs, he grabbed my wrist with his clammy hand.

  “You must stay far away from this,” he cautioned. “This whole thing is bigger and more dangerous than any of us can even comprehend.”

  With that warning, he let out his final breath.

  The team and I spent the rest of the night digging our attackers’ graves.

  We spent the week after the werewolf ambush training hard and searching for clues. The attack had rattled everyone, and even the group members who hadn’t initially taken the guardianship task seriously were suddenly yearning for more lessons.

  After watching Sophie struggle in her long skirt and seeing Brooke trip over her six-inch heels, I decided that the first order of business was to implement a dress code. Black pants, black tank-top, and combat boots was my go-to attire, so I instructed the team to dress in a similar fashion. Brooke, of course, drove a hard bargain—especially when it came to the shoes. To get her to agree to the uniform policy, I had to promise to let her outfit me for every party and formal event for the next hundred years. I could just imagine the kind of scandalous wardrobe she’d pay me back with.

  Next, I had to get the team better acquainted with basic weapon skills. We worked with knives for a few days, then moved on to ordinary tools that could be found anywhere at a moment’s notice. I wanted them to be ready for any future ambush—no matter where it occurred. I even showed Seth how to disarm someone using only a plastic spatula.

  Though the team excelled at the training, the investigation, on the other hand, hadn’t gone as well as I had hoped. I called President Twitbrook to let him know about the vampire blood-infused mutant wer
ewolves, and while he’d promised to look into it, he feigned ignorance when I questioned him about the reports of the Born vampire disappearances.

  “Dawn, don’t tell me that you’re the type of girl who indulges in silly rumors,” he chastised. “I think you’re allowing your imagination to get the best of you.”

  “I have proof,” I said, not allowing his hostile tone to dissuade me.

  “Oh?” I could almost visualize him raising his eyebrows. “Is that so?” he asked icily.

  His cool, mocking tone was slowly making its way under my skin. I had never really been fond of Twitbrook—he was a media-loving, attention-seeking phony who had very little actual knowledge of politics. He’d replaced my father in his position as president simply because he was the only vampire who’d had the audacity to run for election mere weeks after his death. Regardless, I had always treated him with the utmost respect—the same courtesy he’d extended to me. The moment I brought up the Born situation, however, his polite demeanor vanished completely.

  “I have proof that vampires are missing,” I repeated loudly—as if an increase in decibels would somehow change his mind.

  “And what is this proof, pray tell?”

  Ignoring the sarcasm in his voice, I pressed on. “I recently met a Born vampire by the name of Selena Alvaro. Her twin sister Sierra was taken from her apartment.”

  Twitbrook actually chuckled. “She was taken, you say? By who?”

  “I don’t know yet. That rogue vampire the werewolves were talking about, perhaps? Or maybe the mutant weres themselves? Quinoa told us—”

  “Dawn, how could you trust the words of a deranged, drugged beast?” Twitbrook chastised. “Does this mysterious blood-donating vampire even exist? And how do you know this Sierra didn’t just decide to take a little vacation? Perhaps she needed a break from work. Maybe she wanted to get away from her family. She could have even staged the whole thing. People do all kinds of things for attention.”