A Final Touch: The Complete Series, page 22
The dagger was out, clutched in my fingers, the blade shining. I pressed it against the tree, trying to control my breathing.
This was the riskiest part of the plan. I had to surprise the Alpha… and what? Plunge the dagger through his heart, save Jace if he was there, then desperately try to remove the King’s power?
“It can’t work. It won’t work—” I began to mouth. But another growl hit the air, this time louder. It would’ve shaken the heavens in two but wasn’t meant for them.
A large figure appeared in the hole in the wall. At first they looked incredibly massive, so broad, it was like a small mountaintop. But then the wind shifted direction again, forcing the belching black smoke to clear. I saw a huge Alpha carrying Jace over his shoulder.
My heart catapulted out of my chest, I swear.
Jace was unconscious, and he was bleeding from his brow, but he was alive.
And the other Alpha….
Dear God.
Once upon a time, I deliberately paid barely any attention to magical politics. But there are some facts that are thrust down your throat anyway. Even if you’re a normal, you’ll learn who the heads are. Their faces are on billboards, in the papers, taught in school. They’re essentially de facto emperors and empresses.
So I knew the old head, Patrick Theodore Smith.
I knew him from the top of his silver-grey head to the tips of his broad, massive feet.
Standing at just under 6 foot 7, and as large-shouldered as a wrestler, he’d stood several heads above most of his pack, and essentially every other citizen of Mythos.
But if his physical dominance weren’t enough, Patrick had two different colored eyes, one a deep husky blue, the other a disarmingly beautiful mossy green. They seemed to come from two different heads.
He had a broad mouth, deep smile lines, crinkles around his eyes, and a streak of silver across both temples.
An unquestionably handsome man, back when he’d been alive, he’d permanently been the target of gossip mags, regardless of his two-decade marriage to his mate. The news had never gotten over his roguish good looks.
All of that meant one thing. I knew who I was staring at. Any freaking person in Mythos City, even small children, would recognize Patrick.
But he was meant to be dead.
And I had a few seconds to take advantage of this.
The wind thankfully changed direction again. I said thankfully. It brought a thick swathe of choking smoke sweeping over the area. I pressed my hand over my mouth to stifle a cough. But it meant I couldn’t see him. And as the crackle of the fire worsened, I couldn’t hear him, either.
I didn’t think he was moving fast. But he could have dumped Jace and crept behind a tree.
Planting a hand on my heart, hoping like hell he couldn’t hear it, I went to inch out of cover.
But Patrick let out one low, devastating growl. “I know you’re out there, Serena.”
My fingers flinched around my dagger, almost dropping it.
“I know you set fire to my castle, Serena.” His nostrils sounded like they expanded then contracted. “I know you tried to kill my witch, Serena.”
Technically, I hadn’t tried to kill her.
“And I know something else, Serena.”
He paused as if I’d ask what, giving away my position.
“Don’t you want to know what else I know, Serena?”
Like hell. I’d rather stab this dagger right into his heart.
Patrick was meant to have been a good Alpha. The packs had respected him. And though I hated to say this, he’d brought stability after the crazy time that was M-Day.
Heck, I’d begrudgingly respected him. Even if my aunt had smartly kept us away from him.
But that voice….
“Go on, Serena,” he encouraged softly. “Don’t you want to know what I know?”
“Go to hell,” I mouthed.
It was almost like he could hear me. A slow chuckle erupted from his lips. “You’re already mine,” he said flatly.
I couldn’t push out of cover. But I longed to see what was happening. I think I heard him moving. No… it was a low groan.
Could it be Jace?
A spark of hope rose in my chest. But then there was the definite heavy crunch of a fist against a face.
I tried not to scream.
“Serena,” Patrick growled again, “I’m going to give you one chance to be good and come out. Greet your new master.”
I didn’t have the element of surprise anymore. My big plan had flipped. I’d drawn the Alpha out of the basement, but I should have run.
“There’s no need to fear the new world order, Serena. It’s only logical.”
Sure, logical. I would never make excuses for the magical world. And though I’d come to have a begrudging respect for it, I still hated the way magic was organized. It would be infinitely better than what Patrick and the other Kings had planned.
“You have one last chance,” he said, his voice flattening into a warning.
My lips twitched. Then my stupid hands groped backward, almost as if they recognized this was pointless.
Patrick would catch me. Perhaps he would treat me better if I volunteered myself.
But screw that.
There must be some way to escape.
My hands carefully, slowly dropped to my pockets. There were the empty potion vials, the spell parchments… and the message paper.
While I’d assumed only the witch was talking to my werewolf tracker, what if Patrick had been privy to the messages too? It was easy enough to connect as many message parchments to the same communication stream as you wanted. It was like inviting different people into a group on your phone.
There was no way this should work. It was literally the only thing I had left.
Inching, moving like a sloth, I pulled the message parchment out of my pocket and pinned it against the tree in front of me. A single globule of sweat slid down my brow, my brain straining to come up with a message.
I got one.
So I wrote: I’ve tracked her. She’s run around to the east side of the mansion, near the kitchen.
Once I finished, I winced. Was the kitchen to the east? Crap… the mountains were east of the city, but—
Patrick grunted.
I think I heard the sound of him pulling something from his pocket. Then maybe paper being unfolded.
God. My heart had never beat like this. It pounded against my chest wall, a tribal drum of pure fear.
“Good,” Patrick grunted. It wasn’t performative. Nor was it loud.
There was the sound of him sliding a big body off his shoulder. And I think Jace thumped onto the rubble.
Then Patrick pushed into a run.
This was my only chance. I inched out of cover in time to see Patrick disappearing around the side of the burning mansion.
He’d fallen for my ploy easily. I should’ve written that I’d already escaped far past the mansion’s barriers. But it was too late.
I ran.
Thank God that more of the mansion started to burn. Huge rafters fell from inside, creating the kind of calamitous bangs even a shifter can’t hear past.
As the smoke was whipped back and forth in front of my face, it cleared to reveal Jace. He lay about 20 meters away from the water feature, thankfully far enough past the mansion that the flames couldn’t reach him. But the wall of wretched heat almost forced me back.
I’d stood around bonfires before. This was 1000 times bigger.
It almost singed my brows off. But I kept moving until I ducked down and reached Jace.
Flattening a hand on his shoulder, I twisted him, hoping like hell he was alive. His chest moved—
Then immediately his fist did too. He went to punch me, but long before I could splutter, his fist stopped several inches from my face. His eyes twitched wide, and he recognized me.
We had a moment where we stared into each other’s gazes. Time did not stand still. Isn’t it meant to when you’re in serious trouble? Your brain is supposed to spread, making every single nanosecond last longer. Instead, everything sped up.
Jace tried to stand, but he was injured. Looping a hand underneath his arm, I helped him to his feet.
From around the front of the mansion, I heard Patrick roaring.
God. He must have realized I wasn’t there.
I’d shoved the message parchment back into my pocket. A strange tickling sensation rose from it into my skin, presumably meaning Patrick had written another message.
I should have pulled it out immediately, but Patrick roared again. He was coming back around, likely for Jace.
“Jace,” I mouthed close to him, not wanting to let my squeaky, shrill voice out, “run. He’s not after you, anyway.”
Immediately, Jace’s fingers tightened around my elbow. I didn’t think there was any strength left in him, yet somehow the Alpha straightened. He no longer needed to prop himself against me. His head angled down. He stared at my face, and he blocked me off from the wall of heat behind.
I became breathless looking into his eyes.
Blood still ran down from multiple cuts on his face. It was clear he couldn’t quite take weight on his left leg. Yet none of that mattered.
“You’re part of my pack,” he mouthed.
I didn’t even pick up the pack bit. My mind focused on the way he whispered my.
The next thing I knew, Jace picked me up, throwing me right over his shoulder.
“I can run,” I whispered.
“But not as fast as I need.” Then he flew over the rubble.
The sound alerted Patrick. It took no time at all for the Alpha to appear.
He came racing around the side of the mansion. For one split second, I made eye contact with him. Pulling my body up and twisting my head, it was like there was nothing between us. Even the smoke cleared momentarily.
Those piercing odd eyes stared into my soul.
He waited one second then lurched forward like a horse freed from the stalls.
I didn’t need to scream at Jace. He knew the King was right behind us.
There was no chance we could escape. But then the castle fell. The fire was still spreading. But the top floor crumbled into the one beneath it and caused a cascade. They all crashed down, and Patrick was too close.
As the castle fell, the structural walls blasted outward like a balloon. Burning rafters struck Patrick, clipping him and forcing him into the trees.
I screamed in surprise then hissed, “Run. Run, he’s—” I wanted to say down. But a shape stood amongst the burning mess of debris and trees.
It was stark and black against the waves of red. And it stared right at me.
No words escaped my mouth. No breath. No nothing.
Jace ran.
Though he must be injured, he didn’t let it show. Streaking through the tree line, soon we were out of sight. Even the curling smoke couldn’t reach us here. Jace powered down a gully, falling occasionally but never dropping me.
I wanted to say I’d be faster than the injured werewolf, but nothing could run like Jace right now.
Soon we left the castle far behind. Jace seemed to know this area well, and he reached a highway. Statistically, we’d come across nothing. But he ran out onto the road only to hear a truck chugging along it.
Jace slid me off his shoulder then lurched into the middle of a bend and shoved his hand out. If it were anyone else, I’m sure the truck would simply drive right past. But at the sight of a huge, bloody wolf, the delivery guy thrust his foot onto the brake and wobbled to a stop. He missed Jace by a few inches.
Jace twisted around, grabbed the driver’s side door, and barked, “This is an emergency situation. Give me the wheel.”
He bundled me inside with the delivery driver then drove off.
And just like that, we were out of the woods.
But the true fight was yet to come.
Chapter 18
I lay in the bath, pickling myself, my head a centimeter above the soapy water. Occasionally, my mouth opened and I blew large, glistening bubbles off the surface. Then I’d sink down up to my open eyes, hold my breath for as long as I could, then splutter.
My silky, soapy hair hung over my chest in tangled knots. I hadn’t brushed it yet. Nor had I technically dealt with my scrapes and bruises. None were big enough to cause any damage in the bath. But my whole body still ached.
“Stop thinking about yourself,” I snarled. “Jace is….”
He was remarkably fine for somebody who’d almost died at the hands of a should-be-dead Alpha.
Jace had driven like a demon all the way to the compound. Then he’d barked orders at his pack, left me in the clinic, and walked out without another word.
He hadn’t told me what had happened on the drive home. Likely because he didn’t want to share anything with the delivery driver.
What could he share?
The city’s last Alpha had seemingly risen from the dead.
What did it mean?
And what the hell would happen next?
Sighing, I tilted my head back. “I hate these questions. God, I wish everything would go away.” With a deep breath, I dove under the hot water. I even blinked my eyes open, though the soapy suds stung them.
I stayed there for as long as I could until I rose with a splatter. It was loud, and my stupid hand swiped over the edge of the bath, knocking over a cup of water. It banged and broke onto the tile floor.
Literally two seconds later, someone was hammering at my door. “Serena?” Jace barked.
I didn’t respond in time. So the Alpha burst right through my bedroom door.
Technically, I was in the en suite, but the door was wide open.
“I’m fine, Jace,” I spluttered, lurching up and reaching for my towel, wondering if the Alpha wouldn’t take my word for it and barge in.
And that would be when I slipped right out of the bath. Too many suds can do that to a girl.
I tumbled right over the lip and smashed into the tiles. Fortunately, I managed to brace myself with my arm, and I didn’t hit my head. But I came in hard.
Jace powered into the room to find me spread-eagled on the floor, my soapy hair covering my shoulders, my bum on full display. Fortunately, I’d fallen with my back to him, but the tall Alpha could see everything.
He raced right over to pick me up.
His fingers touched my bare shoulders and thigh, and my body clenched then flopped. I’d never felt anything like it. This weird sense of calm came over me. For a split second. Then I realized I was naked and sudsy in the Alpha’s arms.
“Holy crap,” I spat then winced. I’d fallen on my arm pretty hard.
I hadn’t broken it, right?
I’d survived a werewolf, a witch, and Patrick without too many scrapes and bruises. A bath had almost killed me.
“I’m naked,” I squeaked, as if that was news to anyone.
Jace had already bundled me up in his arms. But the Alpha didn’t stare down at me once.
Yet while his eyes were directed forward, his mouth was held in an odd, stiff line.
I realized why. He had almost invisible magical sutures along a sealed cut that ran from his cheek to his ear.
I hadn’t seen him since he’d been cleaned up. So much blood had covered his face, it was hard to track his injuries. Now they stared at me right in the face. It was enough to forget I was naked.
“Oh my God. What did he do to you?”
“You smell like you’ve almost broken your arm,” he snapped.
“Who cares about my arm?”
He looked down at me. His eyes didn’t travel further than mine, but I’m sure he saw everything in his peripheral vision. But he cared more about conveying his message. “I care,” he said. And from the exact tone, he did.
He went to carry me out, but I protested once more, “I’m naked. Please don’t carry me through your pack without clothes on.”
He flinched.
My towel hung right by the door, and my groping fingers snatched it up. I threw it over myself, looking seriously sheepish and stupid. “I think I can stand, by the way. You don’t have to carry me. Not like earlier today.”
“If I hadn’t carried you—”
“Don’t worry. I’m fully aware that if you hadn’t carried me, we wouldn’t have gotten out of there. The old Alpha would have—”
“Patrick’s dead,” he said, freezing in the doorway.
Jace was the most decisive man I’d ever met. Quite likely because even a scrap of indecision would get him killed. Now he hovered there, staring ahead, looking haunted.
I kept saying that Jace was remarkably real. This was the most genuine reaction he’d given yet.
It softened my heart, not that it was particularly hard anymore. “Don’t worry. We’ll find out what he is. But you can put me down. I can dry myself. And I can walk down to the clinic on my own. I swear.”
“Not on your own,” he snapped.
I squeezed my lips into a strange smile.
He looked down, and for one flicker, smiled back. Then he set me onto my feet, though he remained close.
Turning my back to him, I inched the towel around. I really didn’t want to dry thoroughly in front of him. Fortunately, he turned his back and walked from the room. “Don’t fall again.”
“Don’t worry,” I said, about to add I was remarkably unsteady on my feet. Folks with good balance don’t dive head-first out of the bath.
Cursing my bad luck and realizing my arm might really be broken, I dressed awkwardly. Then I padded out into the room to find Jace standing right in front of the door, ready.
I could be cruel and say he looked like a robot, but automatons don’t have that edge to their jaw, that almost lifelessness to their stare. They simulate human beings. Jace was a real one, albeit trapped under layers of responsibility.
He turned. Those dark eyes flashed toward my arm. “I don’t think it’s a bad break. You got lucky.”
Twisting it around, I realized I could flex it properly. “I’m pretty sure it’s a bruise.”
“We’ll get you an X-ray.”
I ran my fingers down my neck. “I’m sorry to put more on your plate.”
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