Darkest Hour (New Adult Paranormal Romance) (9 page)

“I want to stay and watch the
battle.”

Thomas turned to look at her. She
was standing a few feet to the side, her face a study in contrast—her
trembling mouth told him just how much she feared the outcome of this battle,
but the fierce determination in her eyes bespoke of the length she was willing
to go to keep him from getting hurt.

He crossed over to her and cupped
her face in his hands. “I know, my love.” He dropped a kiss on her forehead.
“But I can’t let you do that.”

“Why?” She propped her hands on
her hips. “I have been a vampire much longer than you have been a half-vampire.
I am fast and strong in my own right, and more than capable of defending
myself.”

“I’m not worried that you will
have a hard time defending yourself. I’m worried that instead of keeping yourself
safe, you will throw your life away at some crucial moment in order to spare
mine.” He pressed a finger to her lips when she opened them to protest. “Am I
wrong?”

Her eyes filled with tears. “I
couldn’t bear to stand by and watch you die, Thomas.”

He nodded. “That’s part of why
I’m asking you to go away. So you don’t have to witness such a horrible fate,
should it come to pass.”

She shook her head. “I won’t run
from this, Thomas. Everything that’s led up to this moment is my doing. I
refuse to take the coward’s way out.”

“If you won’t do it for yourself,
then do it for me,” he pleaded, allowing a note of desperation to creep into
his voice. “Don’t you see, Elsbeth? If I am constantly worrying about whether
or not you’re safe, or trying to make sure you don’t end up on the wrong end of
a werewolf’s claws while trying to protect me, I will not be able to focus on
the battle. And my death will most certainly be assured. You need to go.”

Elsbeth swallowed, forcing back
her tears. “Promise me you won’t give up, no matter what happens.”

“That’s a promise I’m willing to
keep.” He lowered his head, kissed her long and deep, and then pushed her away.
“Now go!” he commanded just as another howl split the air—the wolves were
at the door.

Elsbeth did as he bade—but
not before throwing her arms around Xander, who had watched the exchange in
silence. “Thank you so much,” she whispered in his ear. “For everything.”

He squeezed her tightly. “You are
always welcome,” he assured her, and then gave her a push of his own. “Flee
now.”

With tears threatening to choke
her, Elsbeth slipped out the back, dashing into the woods and feeling like the
lowest of cowards as the two most important men in her life stepped out to face
what was most likely the biggest battle of their lives.

* * *

Thomas stood outside the cabin,
Xander and the other three vampires flanking him. They made a formidable sight,
the five of them spread out in a half circle, their expressions fierce, their
stances taut, weapons ready.

But the pack of werewolves stepping
from the woods was even more fearsome, especially with Khan in the lead. Thomas
noted that even though he and his fellow vampires were outfitted with weapons
and leather armor, neither the Alpha nor his pack carried anything but the very
lightweight clothing on their bodies.

“Where is Malachi?” Thomas’s
voice rang out. “Our source told us that he was leading you here.” He didn’t
want to mention Xander’s powers if he didn’t have to—on the off-chance
that Khan didn’t know about them, it could give them some kind of advantage.

Khan grinned, showcasing an
impossible amount of wickedly sharp teeth as he did so. “He met with a rather
unfortunate accident on our way up. Thankfully we were close enough that we
were able to track you the rest of the way without difficulty.” His expression
hardened. “Now enough chit chat. It’s time we did what we came here to do.”

“And what would that be?” Ranulf
asked, his deep voice mocking, and Thomas smiled.
Brutish and domineering
right to the end.
He took the moment to check his weapons one more time,
and then drew the long dagger from the sheath he’d stuck through his belt.

“Kill you, of course!” Khan
snarled—and just like that, he changed. One moment he was a powerfully
built man, the next a rippling, fur covered mass of muscle charging toward him
on all fours.

“Charge!”

* * *

Malachi lay on the ground, his
blood-encrusted eyes cracked open just enough to be able to see a sprinkling of
stars peeking through the forest canopy. Dimly, he could hear the snarls and
cries of battle, and his heart sank lightly—he had failed. During the
days he had bought himself by backtracking and looping around, he had been
unable to formulate any plan that would assure Elsbeth’s safety. Here he was,
covering the forest floor with his blood, while she was probably fighting
valiantly for herself and her lover.

All he’d managed to do so far was
roll onto his back so that he didn’t have to lie there with his face planted in
the blood. Which was unacceptable. He might be incapable of moving, but that
didn’t mean he needed to lie here like an invalid.

Not when there was something he
could do to help.

Closing his eyes, he called to
mind the names and faces of the men and women he knew so well. They came from
all walks of life, their stories and personalities as vast as the spectrum, but
the one thing they all had in common was what enabled him to reach out and
touch their minds.

Help. Please, help us now, before
it is too late!

The call drained him of energy so
that he could no longer control his thoughts, and as the connection slipped
through his mental fingers, it was replaced with the memory of a face so dear
to him that it hurt to look upon it.

Clouds of inky hair wreathed her
pale, heart-shaped face; her eyes sparkling like dewy grass, her curved lips
pinker than the fairest dawn. It was his wife, Emily, standing in a sunlit
meadow, clutching a bouquet of wildflowers and wearing a simple white dress
that danced around her ankles. There was a pastor present, guiding them through
their wedding vows, but Malachi barely noticed him—his eyes had been all
for his wife the day of their wedding.

They’d had a simple ceremony,
with only their parents in attendance, and then Malachi had taken her back to
the cottage he’d built with his bare hands and made slow, passionate love to
her all night long. It had been the happiest moment of his life.

It was cruel irony that the day
that followed was his worst.

“Darling, could you fetch some
water from the well outside?” Emily asked one evening. “I would like so much to
put on a pot of tea.”

Malachi looked up from the book
he was reading and smiled at the sight of his wife—he could never get
enough of saying that, either in his head or out loud—standing in the
doorway, the candlelight from the kitchen backlighting her so that she appeared
to be glowing. How could he deny her anything, even if his back and feet ached
from a hard day’s work?

“I’ll be right back, sweetheart.”

Whistling, he’d swung the bucket
back and forth on the way to the well he’d dug just days before the wedding,
which stood only a few feet from the house. It was when he’d leaned over to
hook the bucket onto the rope that he’d felt a chill travel down his spine, and
turned to see if anyone was around.

Two men materialized out of the
shadows, and Malachi heard a dull thunk, followed by a splash—he’d
dropped the bucket. They advanced on him, baring long and impossibly sharp
fangs, and Malachi recoiled in horror as he realized what they were.

“Vampires!”

He tried to fight them off, but
he was only human, and no match for their strength, and it took only a few
well-placed hits for him to crumple into their arms. He still remembered the
excruciating pain as the vampires had taken him into their arms, and had
pierced both his shoulders with their fangs at the same time.

He wasn’t sure how long they’d
fed from him, only that he was in a haze of pain and shock as they did so,
which was broken with a sharp, feminine cry.

“Malachi!”

One of the vampires raised his
head. “He has a woman, does he?”

The other one chuckled. “It has
been a long time since I’ve tasted a female. I wonder if she’ll be as sweet as
I remember them.”

“Only one way to find out, eh?”

They dropped him, and though
Malachi tried to pull himself from the ground, he was too weak from the blood
loss. He was forced to lay on the ground, much as he was doing now, except that
the cries and shrieks he heard did not come from a battle between vampire and
werewolf, but from a helpless woman being ravaged and drained, a woman whom
he’d promised to love, honor and protect.

Elsbeth forced herself to keep
moving, placing one foot in front of the other as she walked briskly through
the forest. Several times she caught herself trying to walk back toward the
battle scene and she had to forcibly reroute her path—she would not break
her word to Thomas no matter how much she wanted to.

No matter how much help she might
have been to them, in the end Thomas was right. She would be more of a
liability than anything, simply because she was such a huge distraction to Thomas.

The scent of blood came wafting
to her nose, and she stopped dead. Had the battle carried this far? She sniffed
the air, then shook her head—the blood belonged to one person. But who?
Was there a human wandering these woods that had become the hapless victim of
the wolves?

Elsbeth picked up her pace as she
followed the scent, and before she knew it she was stumbling onto a small path,
where a man lay sprawled on his back, staring aimlessly up at the sky. As she
drew closer, she got a good look at his face, and her fists clenched, her
breathing becoming ragged. Even though it was encrusted with blood and dirt,
she would have recognized that hooked nose anywhere.

It was Malachi.

“You bastard!” Elsbeth dropped to
her knees, fisting her left hand in his shirt and hauling him up. “How could
you do this to me? To Thomas?
How could you?”

His pale blue eyes struggled to
focus on her, and then rolled back as she slapped him across the face. As his
neck snapped back she noticed the healing gash—someone had sliced his
throat. Well, it served him right.

“It is a good thing that whoever
did this to you did not slice deep enough to behead you,” she snarled, drawing
the long dagger she’d belted to her waist. “After everything you’ve put us
through, I want that honor to be mine, and mine alone.”

Malachi’s lips moved then, and
Elsbeth frowned—no sound came through them. He tried again, but nothing
came out other than a hoarse gurgle.

“What is it?” she jerked him
closer so she could catch the words, unable to help herself despite everything.
“If you have any last words, speak them now?”

“They… are… coming…” he rasped,
his lips nearly touching her ear.

“Who is coming?” Elsbeth nearly
shrieked, thoroughly disgusted with him. “They are already here! You led them
to us and because you, they are going to kill Thomas and Xander!”

Malachi drew in a labored breath,
and Elsbeth saw the gash close a fraction more.

“Our brothers…”

* * *

Thomas laughed as he gutted one
of the wolves, dragging a dagger through its side, then kicking its body away
as it fell to the ground. He and his fellow vampires were bloody and bruised,
but they were all still standing, and Khan had already lost ten wolves. Perhaps
there was hope for this battle after all.

As he was fending off another
attack, he noticed three wolves ganging up on Xander. The older vampire was
fighting valiantly, but there was a deep gash in his side slowing down his
movements. Thomas jumped to his aid, dispatching one of the wolves, but as he
turned to face the other, some kind of strange vision hit him—a blur of
faces swept through his mind, followed by a cacophony of voices sounding oddly
like a war trumpet, and a call to battle. He reared back, staggered by the
power behind the caller’s voice, and cried out as someone kicked him hard in
the back, propelling him across the clearing so that he smashed his skull into
a tree.

Groaning, he slid to the ground,
his face scraping against the bark. He struggled to turn himself around even as
the crack in his skull threatened to send him into unconsciousness, and came
face to face with Khan, who was hulking over him, his muzzle bared, ribbons of
saliva hanging from his razor-sharp fangs.

“NO!!!” Ranulf cried, and Thomas
jerked his gaze past Khan to see Xander fall to the ground, his head severed roughly
from his body by a pair of werewolf teeth. Blood seeped into the ground,
pouring from the neck, and Xander’s head rolled twice before stopping on its
side, his dark eyes wide and blank as they stared straight into his own.

“XANDER!” Thomas shouted hoarsely,
grief clogging his throat. He couldn’t believe this was happening. He’d only
known the vampire for a few days, but he’d become both mentor and friend. It
wasn’t right that he should have died when the pack wasn’t even after him.
Elsbeth would be devastated when she found out.

He lurched to his feet, intending
to cross the clearing to his dead friend, but Khan blocked his path with a
thunderous growl, and Thomas froze. It was clear by the expression in the
wolf’s eyes that his time was up. He was going to die.

“THOMAS!”

Khan froze, and Thomas jerked his
head toward Galen, who was pointing off into the distance. Thomas followed his
gaze, and his jaw dropped—a group of vampires were charging full-tilt
toward them, their gazes fixed on the wolves. Khan turned away with a fierce
howl, and the wolves immediately changed position, regrouping and facing the
approaching hoard.

As Thomas focused his eyes, a
flash of recognition lit his brain—these were the same faces he’d seen
earlier, when that battle cry had sounded in his brain. These vampires were
there to help them—no, he realized instinctively. They weren’t vampires.

They were half-vampires. Just
like him.

Thomas dropped to his knees,
overwhelmed by a combination of joy and sheer relief. He knew he should get to
his feet and help, but his body was so badly bruised that, like his fellow
vampires, he could do nothing but watch as the two groups clashed. The
half-vampires tore through the werewolves like a knife cutting through
gossamer—the advantage was clear not only in superior strength and
powers, but because the half-vampire was at full strength, whereas the wolves
were already battle-weary.

Khan lifted his muzzle and howled
again, but this time with a plaintive note rather than a menacing one. He
rushed off, his four legs moving as fast as they could, and the wolves followed
him—a retreat. Thomas rushed to his feet again, a surge of rage
propelling him. After all this, he wasn’t going to let the Alpha get away to
fight another day.

One of the half-vampires, a
female with short, bright red hair, stepped in front of him. “It would be wise
of you to let him go.”

Thomas halted, an incredulous
expression on his face. “Let him go? He just tried to slaughter us! Why should
I do that?”

Another half-vampire stepped up
next to the female, this one tall, with long, dark hair. “Because we will need
you at full strength. This is only just beginning, and it would be wasteful for
you run after him while you are weak and can be defeated. We will need to
prepare for future battles.”

“Future battles?” Thomas’s heart
sank. He hadn’t planned on future battles. He’d gone into this thinking it
would be a final confrontation, but now he was being told it would be one of
many.

“THOMAS!”

Thomas turned to see Elsbeth
running toward him, tears running down her face, which was wreathed in smiles.
Relief threatened to buckle his knees yet again—sending her into a forest
hadn’t been a guarantee of her safety, and he was incredibly glad to see her
alive again.

“ELSBETH!”

He ran across the clearing, but
just as he’d closed the distance to but a few feet, Malachi stepped out from
behind her and Thomas halted abruptly, his feet skidding in the dirt.

“YOU!” Thomas roared, pulling the
last remaining knife from his boot as he charged, the intent to kill clear in
his eyes, but Elsbeth stepped in front of his nemesis, her arms thrown wide.

“STOP!”

Thomas skidded to a halt, his
eyes darting back and forth between them. “What?” His knife arm dropped. “I
thought he… I thought he was trying to kill you.”

Elsbeth shook her head. “He saved
our lives.”

Thomas scowled. “What are you
talking about? He led the wolves straight to our doorstep, did he not?”

Elsbeth nodded. “I was about to
kill him myself, but I realize he had no choice—they would have found us regardless
of whether or not he’d led them here. Malachi is the one who called the
half-breeds here to help us. He is a half-breed himself.”

Thomas took a step back, shaking
his head. “No. No. That can’t be true.”

Malachi stepped out from behind
Elsbeth. “True as I am standing here before you.”

“If this is really true,” Thomas
spat, “then why did you try to kill me when I was a human, and then again when
I had been turned? I would have thought you would have been on my side, as a
fellow half-vampire!”

Malachi’s eyes closed briefly.
“It was my own selfishness,” he admitted, and then locked his pale eyes
steadily with Thomas’s. “I was projecting my own failings onto you. Before I
was turned, my wife…she was killed by the vampires who had bitten me. I was
weak, helpless, and unable to protect her as she was raped and slaughtered mere
feet from me.” Bitterness filled his voice, a bitterness Thomas knew could not
be contrived. “When I became aware of Elsbeth’s infatuation with you, I could
not bear the thought of her falling in love with someone who would be unable to
protect her as I was unable to protect my own wife.”

Malachi let out a breath, and
then continued. “When I failed to kill you the first time and you were turned,
I feared that you would be like how I was in the beginning—a raving
animal, unable to control your thirst. I never expected you to be able to
control it so quickly, and thought that you would only put Elsbeth in danger,
since she and I are members of a Seethe that—generally—does not
kill innocents. I admit that my main motivation was jealousy because I did not
find you worthy of Elsbeth, but I also didn’t think you would want to live the
life I’ve been cursed with, and so I thought that by killing you, I could spare
you of that.”

Thomas arched a brow. “You make
that sound much more noble and self-sacrificing than it really was.”

Malachi sketched a mocking bow.
“I try.”

“But I still don’t understand why
you helped us. Why not just let Khan kill me, instead of calling these others?”

“Regardless of my enmity towards
you, I could not let Elsbeth be slaughtered for something that was my doing,”
Malachi glanced briefly at her, and then looked away as though he was not
worthy to gaze upon her. “The half-breeds are our brothers-in-arms—” he
swept a hand to indicate them, “—and the only ones who would answer my
call for aid. The Seethe might not have been willing to go against Khan, but as
half-breeds they hold no allegiance to anyone but each other… which includes
us, being half-breeds ourselves.”

The redhead stepped forward. “We
know what it’s like to live in the shadows, lost forever between the life we
once knew, and the life we are now forced to live. The two of you—” she
laid a hand on Malachi and Thomas’s shoulders, “—are not so different
from one another.”

Thomas eyed Malachi for a long
moment, and then slowly extended a hand. “If they are willing to back your
story, then I am willing to try and extend a hand of friendship one more time.”

Malachi smiled crookedly, and
gripped Thomas’s hand firmly. “Thank you. For understanding.”

Thomas nodded and stepped back.
“There won’t be a third time, Malachi,” he warned. “If I find you at my throat
again, I will kill you, and no amount of pleading from anyone will stop me.” He
glanced at Elsbeth, who nodded.

“I would expect nothing less.”
Malachi inclined his head.

“Good. Now, if you will excuse me
for a minute, I have something important to do.”

Thomas turned away and headed
straight for Elsbeth, sweeping her up in front of all the onlookers and
crushing her against his chest as he kissed her. He let all of his other
emotions fall away—his grief for Xander, his anger at Khan, his wary
confusion at Malachi—and allowed himself to be filled with his love for
her. She returned his embrace wholeheartedly, and soon they were lost in each
other.

After a few minutes, he pulled
away. “I am so glad you’re safe,” he murmured, pressing his forehead against
hers.

“And I am glad you are safe,
too.” Elsbeth smiled. “You were in much greater danger than I. I love you so
much, Thomas.”

He kissed her nose. “I love you,
too.”

“Are you two done?” the
dark-haired half-vampire called.

Thomas reluctantly pulled away.
“For now.”

“Good.” The half-breed folded his
arms. “Because we have a war to prepare for.”