Wolves’ Bane (24 page)

Chapter Forty

Show Down

Cal’s heart rate ramped ever higher the closer they got to the carnival grounds. The sun had set hours before. Twilight had passed into night and the moon’s eclipse had already begun. According to the texts, Lazarus didn’t need the full eclipse to happen before he would return to his human form. Even the beginning of an eclipse would reverse the spell that bound him to his wolf form and force a change.

Morgan’s body vibrated beside him. He didn’t know if it was fear or excitement that drove her now. She was so determined to get to Rachel, to spare her friend’s life, that she’d made several comments about putting the pedal to the metal to get their asses to the grounds faster.

He’d smirked at her comments, hearing the undercurrent of worry, and fear, but certain that she would overcome them to triumph over Lazarus. He had faith in her, and he believed that Lazarus taking her friend would push the battle more in her favor. She wouldn’t abide by Rachel getting hurt, not while she could do something about it.

As they drove down the long gravel road that led to the carnival grounds, Morgan froze. She leaned forward, pushing herself in between the two front seats. “What the fuck?”

Cal craned his neck around Andrew’s headrest to get a better look.

“Oh shit. Well, I guess we’re not going to need any light,” Andrew said as he glanced over at Cal.

“And we’re also not going to have the element of surprise,” Lance added.

Cal gently nudged Morgan back so that he could get a better look.

The carnival grounds were empty, just as Morgan had predicted, and the concession stand and washroom building were just where she had said they would be. The place looked deserted. Completely free of humans, unlike the night he had retrieved Morgan from Lazarus’s grasp.

But that wasn’t where Lazarus waited. The baseball diamond stood off to one side, clearly visible in the diminishing light of the slowly eclipsing moon. Its floodlights burned brightly overhead, as if some sick game was ready to start. And standing on the pitcher’s mound was Lazarus.

Wearing a tailored black suit, he looked nothing like the beast Morgan had first encountered. He was tall, and by anyone’s standards—men and women alike—he was captivating to behold. Long, ash-colored hair fell past his shoulders, a bold jaw and high cheekbones marked him as an ancient stud. Even without the power of his magical thrall, Cal knew he would have many women, humans and Huntresses, drooling.

“Is that Lazarus?” Morgan whispered as Cal shifted back into his seat.

“Yeah, that’s him,” Lance said.

Morgan shuddered, her body tensing as her eyes played over Lazarus, taking him in from head to toe. “I didn’t expect him to be so…”

“Handsome?” Cal offered weakly, his gut clenching and jealousy spiking.

Andrew shot Cal a look that spoke volumes of his opinion of the situation—that Morgan would fail.

“Human,” Morgan corrected. “I never expected him to look so human.”

“Well, he isn’t human,” Andrew barked. “And he’d rip your friend’s throat out just as soon as he’d stick his cock in you.”

Morgan flinched and Cal pushed forward, banging his fist into the back of Andrew’s seat. “That’s enough, Andrew.”

“Stop the car,” Andrew ordered, and Ken quickly obliged. “I’m not saying anything that isn’t true. There’s no reason to sugarcoat things.” He turned his hard gaze toward Morgan again. “If you fail, your friend dies.”

“If I fail, I die,” she countered, her look just as hard and unflinching.

Several heartbeats of silence passed with the two of them staring angrily at one another. Finally, Andrew broke away and shifted back in his seat, staring out at the scene ahead. “We’re not going to screw around here. It may look like he wants to start this off with a conversation, but be prepared for a full attack when you step out of this vehicle.” He shifted his gaze back to Morgan. “Put that damn hood up and stay close to the vehicle until we tell you to move. Got it?”

Morgan nodded, but she wasn’t looking at him, instead her eyes were riveted to Lazarus. A pricking of fear ran through Cal’s body as he watched her stare. Was she mesmerized already? He nudged her shoulder. “Morgan? You ready for this?”

She nodded again as she slowly raised the hood of the cloak.

Cal sucked in a deep breath, his hand on the door handle. Whether he wanted to or not, he was going to have to let her out. “I’ll be at your side the whole time.”

Morgan’s head bobbed under the cloak. Cal wished she’d answer him, speak to him, tell him he had nothing to fear. But instead, she nudged for him to move, impatient to get going. With another deep breath, he obliged. All four doors were opened, weapons tightly clenched as everyone rolled out of the SUVs.

Lazarus stood waiting for them. Several of his pack, still in wolf form, paced about a hundred feet away. Watching, waiting.

Cal and the rest of the Hunters approached tentatively, eyes scanning, bodies tense. Everyone expected an attack. Morgan followed close behind him, her hand lightly brushing his lower back as he slowly moved forward. With his sword raised, Cal eyed Lazarus, the prickly feeling of a looming ambush playing across his neck.

“If you want your friend to die,” Lazarus said, his smooth voice echoing over the open space. “Then please, do come closer.”

They all froze. Morgan laid her hand fully on Cal’s back and he felt a tremble flow through her.

With a nod of Lazarus’s head, one of the wolves came forward, walking on its hind legs as it dragged a small woman behind it. Cal could only assume that this was Rachel—behind him, Morgan’s gasp confirmed that indeed it was.

The poor woman was clearly terrified, her clothes disheveled and dirty, her entire body trembling as she was half walked, half dragged, toward Lazarus.

Cal felt Morgan shift to his side, and he held his hand out to stop her from going forward. A small shake of his head and soft growl warned her to stay put.

Once Rachel reached Lazarus’s side, she crumpled to her knees and the other wolf retreated, loping away on all fours to pace with the others around the perimeter of the baseball diamond. The beast’s yellow eyes shifted from one Hunter to the next as if deciding which one it wanted to fight.

Lazarus smiled as he lowered his hand to Rachel’s head, his fingers entwining in her hair almost lovingly. Rachel shuddered at his touch, her chin quivering as her eyes welled with tears.

“You see, my pet?” he cooed. “They did come for you.” His smile faded into a twisted sneer as he laced his fingers further into her hair. He gripped the strands tightly as he yanked her up to stand. She screamed as he pulled. He hauled her up until her body rested against his chest, his other hand gripping her throat. “Now, where is my bride?” he bellowed.

Andrew shifted his head to the side. “She’s here. Let the girl go,” he called out.

Lazarus’s face twisted into an ugly smile as he tightened his grip on Rachel’s neck. “You’ve got her wearing that cloak of yours. I want to see her. Now. Or this bitch will die.”

Morgan gasped and pushed past Cal, yanking the hood from her head and unclasping the cloak. It fell into a useless lump on the ground, and his heart dropped with it.

“I’m here, I’m right here. Now, let her go,” Morgan said loudly, her voice steady and strong.

Lazarus’s greedy gaze fell on her and he sucked in a deep breath, his tongue darting out to touch his lips as they curled into a satisfied smile. “Ah, yes, it is you.”

Cal reached for Morgan as she started toward Lazarus, his bond reacting to the growing distance between them. He wanted her next to him, not walking straight toward the bastard. “Morgan.” Cal’s gut clenched as she moved out of his reach, ignoring his call.

“Yes, Lazarus, it’s me. Your bride. I’m here just as you wanted. Now let her go.”

Lazarus contemplated Morgan for a moment, and the way his golden eyes scanned her from head to toe had anger flashing through Cal’s body.
Mine.

Cal shifted his feet, taking a step toward her, fist clenched as he raised his sword.

Lazarus turned his gaze to Cal, an eyebrow cocked as his grip tightened once again around Rachel’s throat. Rachel gagged, her hands rising to try to pull his fingers away as her eyes bulged.

Morgan turned back to Cal, her hands raised for him to stop moving. “Cal,” she warned, her eyes pleading with him to halt.

Cal froze, and she closed her eyes, releasing her held breath as she mouthed the words
thank you
, then turned to face Lazarus.

“Release her and I will come to you.”

Lazarus eased his hold on Rachel, allowing the woman some air as his lips curled into a satisfied smirk. “Remove your weapons, love, and then come to me. I will release your little friend once I can touch you.”

Morgan raised her hands and did a slow circle to show that she had no weapons. Cal held his breath as the glint of her Huntress blade came into view. If his magic held true, no one but Morgan and he would be able to see it.

A heartbeat passed as Morgan finished her circle. “No weapons.”

Lazarus frowned and Cal raised his sword again, ready to launch.

“Very well, my love. Although I find it dreadfully naïve of you to come without weapons, I am satisfied. You may step a little closer.”

Morgan did as Lazarus bid, moving slowly until she was merely a few feet away from him. Cal gripped his sword tighter, while he shifted his other hand around his back to grasp the
sai
sheathed at his waist.

“It’s okay, Rach. Nothing’s going to happen to you. I promise,” Morgan cooed as she moved even closer. “Lazarus, I’m here. Let her go.”

With a resigned sigh, Lazarus released his hold on Rachel. “Very well.”

She crumpled to the ground, a sob escaping her lips as she greedily gulped air.

“Rach, honey?” Morgan cooed again. “See those men behind me?” When Rachel nodded, Morgan continued, “They’re with me, and they’re the good guys. They won’t hurt you. I want you to go over to them now, okay?”

Rachel nodded again as she pushed herself up and quickly scrambled toward Lance. Morgan glanced over her shoulder to watch as Lance pulled Rachel into a bear hug and quickly removed her from the scene, ushering her into the back of one of the trucks.

In the time it took Morgan to do that—to glance over her shoulder and back—Lazarus was on her, two long strides bringing his massive, six-and-a-half-foot frame close enough to tower over her. Cal tensed, releasing his hold on his sword to pull the second
sai
from its sheath, the two weapons gripped in either hand, ready to launch if Morgan needed him. He wouldn’t be able to
kill
Lazarus, but Cal could wound him, maybe even get him to the ground so that Morgan could finish the bastard off with her blade.

Her body was rigid as she craned her neck up toward him, her eyes seemingly locked with his. When Lazarus reached up a hand to gently stroke her cheek, Cal did everything in his power to stop himself from attacking, even though all of his instincts screamed for him to fight for her.

Mine.

Morgan’s muscles coiled. Without tearing her gaze from Lazarus, she pulled her arm back and slapped his hand away.

Cal’s pride surged.
That’s it, Morgan, fight him.

Surprise registered on Lazarus’s features seconds before Morgan drilled him with an uppercut, sweeping her legs to take his out from under him. He bellowed as he fell, a plume of dust rising when his body hit the ground. Morgan was on him in a second, straddling his waist and trapping his arms at his sides as she pulled the hidden blade from its sheath and held it over his chest.

Lazarus sneered as he stared up at her. Thanks to Cal’s magic, he still couldn’t see the blade, but he’d have to be an idiot not to know it was there.

“Hold,” he ordered, his wolves antsy, stalking closer to Cal and the other Hunters. They stopped, fangs bared, growling their displeasure.

Everyone was on edge, waiting, watching as Morgan held the blade, hovering over his chest.

Do it.
Cal clenched the
sai
tighter.

“You tricky little witch. You did have a weapon after all.” The sneer on Lazarus’s face faded into a grin. “A bride with fight in her, I like that.”

“You’re going to like it a lot less when I stick you with it.” Morgan arched the blade up, her confidence clear on her face.

She thought she’d won, and with a sinking feeling of horror, Cal realized her error.

With her arms up, Lazarus wrenched himself free from her legs, rolling her to the side as he drilled a fist into her ribs. The crack of her bones snapping under the pressure echoed through the air. She curled into a ball, defenseless as her body struggled to heal itself.

“Leave her,” Cal bellowed.

Lazarus turned his cold eyes toward Cal as he stood and dusted himself off. With a flick of his finger, his wolves closed in, circling the men and the SUV where Rachel hid. Cal jerked his gaze around, tense and waiting for the attack that was sure to come. The wolves could get Rachel out of the car if they wanted. He hadn’t done anything to protect her in there, no magic etching to keep her safe.
Fuck.
He was so focused on Morgan that he wasn’t doing the job he vowed to do. Protect the humans.

“I am not pleased with you, bride,” Lazarus growled.

She lay on the ground, her breath coming in short gasps as she glared up at him. Defiant as ever.

“But submission can be learned.” With his voice steady, almost loving, Lazarus pulled his leg back and drilled her in the gut with his foot, her arms doing little to protect against the power of his kick.

She yelped when his foot connected, a groan sliding from her lips as she curled into herself even more.

Cal took another step closer, torn between protecting Rachel and helping Morgan. It would take him a few minutes to etch the symbol on the truck that would keep her safe. That would prevent her from being attacked, from being dragged out of the truck. But Cal couldn’t tear his eyes from Morgan.

Lazarus moved quickly, pulling Morgan up by the collar, ignoring her scream of pain as he hauled her toward him.