Connor stepped into the clearing, in muddy jeans and shoes, a shirt rolled and snaked into his waistband. He must have picked up his clothes while searching for us. His torso was bloodied, punctures and lacerations tracking across his arms, his belly.
Relief crossed his face first—gratitude that I was alive. And then he looked closer, saw Carlie, my arm, her lips around my wrist.
His mouth opened, but he didn’t speak, just stared at us until, I guessed, he could comprehend what he was seeing. It would have been a shock, I knew. A horror, probably, to see the girl he considered a little sister bloodied in my arms.
And to watch her drink.
But we were on a schedule, and there was no time to waste. So I had to add insult to injury and hope we’d find our way out the other side. Because while I understood the process, I wasn’t a Master, and Carlie deserved more than my inexperience.
Fortunately, I now knew a vampire, a Master, a physician. I needed his help and hoped he’d be willing to give it.
“I need Ronan,” I told Connor. And hoped he could see the apology in my eyes.
* * *
* * *
We waited until she stopped drinking, which took only another minute. She detached from my arm and fell back, limp; Connor scooped her into his arms and began to move through the woods.
That he wouldn’t let me carry her, despite the fact that I was fed and healing and he was still injured, was an arrow through my heart. Like he didn’t trust me not to do her further harm.
He didn’t speak, and the silence between us seemed to stretch and strengthen.
She’d survive, I told myself. That was what mattered—that the destruction the clan was wreaking wouldn’t claim another victim. And if Connor and I—the bond that had grown between us—didn’t survive, I’d have to live with that. But that didn’t stop the stutter of my heart or the pain that pierced it.
* * *
* * *
Connor didn’t need the trail to find his way back to the resort, and we made it back in ten minutes. There were shifters everywhere. Nervous, waiting, staring at the column of smoke, or attending to the injured shifters who’d limped their way back from the battlefield.
Cash and Everett were notably absent.
There were gasps as Connor walked past them, ignored them, and took the girl into Georgia’s cabin.
“Get Ronan,” he said to Georgia.
His voice was entirely alpha now and brooked no argument. And Georgia made none, at least aloud. But the grim set of her eyes when she looked at Carlie, then shifted her gaze to me, was more than enough.
Connor placed the girl on the sofa. Protectiveness—a sharp tug of it I hadn’t expected—pulled me back to her. I went to my knees in front of the couch, rubbed my hands over my face.
“How long does it take?” he asked.
I opened my eyes and looked at him, saw pain and worry etched on his face, and hated that I’d put it there. “If you mean the transformation, three days.”
Assuming she didn’t die along the way, but I couldn’t bring myself to say that aloud. I had to believe this was going to work.
I cleared my throat, tried to push through the knot of emotions that tried to strangle me. “You said she lived with her grandmother. You might want to check on her, if you haven’t already. Let her know Carlie’s . . . alive.”
Georgia came back in. “Ronan is on his way. He’s not far from here.” She looked at me. “What happened?”
“There was a party at the Stone farm,” I said. “On the other side of the woods. We were at a firepit and heard screaming. We all took off and found the fight—creatures attacking the humans at their party—and fought them.”
“Creatures?” she asked.
“We’ll get to that,” Connor said, gaze on me. “Keep going.”
I nodded. “I was fighting one of them, and I went down. She tried to save me. She hit the beast, and it went down, but came up again and dragged her into the woods. It was fast. I followed it, eventually got close enough to throw my dagger. I hit the beast, and it dropped her and kept running. She was hurt, so I had to let it go.”
I swallowed hard. “It ripped her abdomen open. She was nearly gone when I got to her. Her heart—”
I could hear the echo of her heartbeat again, a soft and fading whisper.
I shook my head, made myself meet his gaze. “Her heart was stopping. She wouldn’t have survived if I’d tried to move her. So I began the process. I bit her, took her blood, and gave her mine. And then you came.”
The only heartbeat I heard in the following silence was mine.
“Someone needs to check on her grandmother,” Connor said finally, his face and tone carefully schooled.
Georgia frowned with confusion, but nodded. “We’ll check on her. Make sure she’s all right.” She looked at Connor. “Are you going to tell me what the hell it was?”
“Unknown canids,” Connor said. “Four of them. Not actual wolves, not shifters. They were bigger, taller, leaner. Walked upright. And not wild animals; they were supernatural. They were magic. They’re what attacked Beth,” he added. “And killed Loren.”
Georgia blinked, as if trying to translate words she didn’t quite understand. “Magic. You’re talking about a curse? A spell?”
“I don’t know.” He paced to one end of the living room, then back again. “What about dire wolves?”
Georgia’s brows lifted nearly to her hairline. “Dire wolves. As in prehistoric animals? Mammoths and saber-toothed tigers and cavemen? I know they existed, and they’re extinct,” she said, frowning. “My father was obsessed with wolves, had a big book, and he’d show us pictures of the types of canines around the world. Everything from dire wolves to Chihuahuas.” She tried for a smile, but it didn’t stick. “Dire wolves moved on four legs, not on two.”
“Yeah,” Connor said, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know what they are, or how they are, but I don’t know of anything else that’s big enough. Not that has existed before. Maybe this is something new. Either way, they’re clan.”
Georgia’s eyes went wide. “No.”
“Yes,” he said simply. “Based on the scent, on the magic, they’re clan. They’ve done something to themselves magically, made themselves bigger, stronger. But still clan. They attacked Beth. Killed Loren. Nearly killed Carlie.”
Georgia shook her head, as if that might clear away some of the confusion. “I don’t understand any of this. Who would do it? Or why?”