Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 52247 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 261(@200wpm)___ 209(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52247 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 261(@200wpm)___ 209(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
I’m forgetting to hate him.
Chapter 7
Selene
The next day, I’m running as a wolf, sniffing at an old rabbit trail, when something flutters above my head. A piece of paper blowing in the breeze. I catch the paper under my paw. My body goes solid. A copy of an old photograph. Even faded, the lines of the image are clear. I crouch behind the cactus, my wolf whimpering. I can’t stop myself from pushing the paper flat and looking closer, even though I know what the photo shows. I’ve seen it a thousand times. Xavier hung it on the wall of the gym where I learned to spar. I’d fight hooded opponents until my muscles screamed, and when I fell--eventually I always fell--I’d look up at the picture, grit my teeth. I’d endure a beating night after night, staring at the photo of the massacre. I’d limp to the showers, wash the blood off my skin, and fall into bed, stifling a groan. I’d lie there, body one giant bruise, the photograph etched in my mind’s eye.
Bodies lie in a room, sprawled where they fell. I remember the room--an old Elk lodge converted into a community center. The pack hangout, with an old pool table and a faded Ansel Adams poster curling on the wall. Here’s one wolf curled around his mate, protecting her even in death. Here’s another facing the camera, eyes dulled, throat torn out.
This is what Lucius did to my pack. I don’t know why he sentenced them to death. Xavier told me only a few were bitten. The younger ones, the ones who put up the most fight, Lucius took from the lodge and held in his private lair, drinking from them until they died. Xavier doesn’t have photos of that, only reports from eye witnesses.
The breeze tugs at the paper, and I plant a paw in the middle. Xavier left this here for me. He and his people are watching me right now. He knows I’ve been weak. He knows I need a reminder. He doesn’t want me to forget why Lucius has to die.
Old pain cracks my heart, poisons my blood.
I nudge a rock onto the photo to hold it down while I dig a hole. Gotta bury the evidence that Xavier was here.
Once the photo is buried in a hole by the cactus, I return to my room, shift and change into a tight camisole and loose pair of shorts. Somewhere in this house is the clue to Lucius’ lair. Vampires are smart, secretive, viper-fast. Ultimate predators. But during the day they sleep like the dead. I’ve already infiltrated his house, and played the role of submissive until I’m left free and unsupervised during the day. If I can find his sleeping place, I could stake him. My mission could be over by sundown.
I exit my room and start searching. I’m looking for cameras, hidden panels, anything that might clue me into a secret entrance to a safe room, or an underground chamber. I wander through the well-appointed rooms, noting a fancy wooden chair. I grab it and snap off its leg, and use a kitchen knife to sharpen a stake.
As I walk down the hall, cameras track my movements. After a few minutes my search is going to be obvious. Lucius will know what I’m up to. The wolf’s out of the bag, and I will have to explain my actions to an already paranoid king. If I don’t find and kill him, tonight my life will be forfeit.
I better find his lair.
All afternoon I search as the sun sinks, a natural countdown clock. By the time the house is filled with thick, golden light of oncoming dusk, I’ve forgotten all semblance of discretion. I tear through bedrooms, ripping at wall hangings and paintings, running my fingers over every lintel, chair rail, and piece of crown moulding. I rap on walls and pull books off shelves, feeling for false panels.
“Come on, come on,” I breathe, feeling behind a piece of shelving with one eye on the window. My wolf is frantic, clawing to the surface, fighting to protect me. I’m in a race with the dying sun, and I’m losing.
Vampires as old as Lucius have more than the usual defenses, Xavier once told me.
Lucius is old, but he’s embraced modern times. He’ll have extra layers of protection, technology and otherwise. But maybe I’ve relied too much on finding the signs of tech security.
Stepping to the center of the room, I close my eyes and extend my senses. My wolf is right there, waiting to show me the way. I drop to all fours and sniff around the corners of the room until I come to the unused fireplace. I’ve sniffed around here in wolf form before, but something nudged me away. A vampire’s natural defenses, older than technology, communicating to the primal part of me. Go away, the scent around the fireplace says. Danger here. Danger, or a vampire?