Vengeance (The Captive #6)(89)
Moira emerged, limping from the shadows. Moira’s brown eyes flickered; her eyebrows shot up when she spotted Tempest’s wrist pressed against William’s mouth. Maybe what she was doing wasn’t something commonly done amongst vampires, but she didn’t give one damn what they thought about it.
“Are you badly injured?” Tempest inquired.
Moira blinked at her question, but her gaze remained locked on the two of them. Finally, she rested her hand against her side. “I’ll heal.”
“We have to go,” Abbott urged.
“Help me with him,” she said. Adjusting her hold on William, she kept her wrist against his mouth as she moved carefully out from under him.
Abbott claimed William’s feet and Moira came to stand by his head to help her with his arms. Together they carried him through the cave toward where they’d left Achilles. She really hoped the horse was still there. It would be difficult for them to carry William through the snow without the horse, but she would do whatever it took to get him to safety.
CHAPTER 30
Over the next two days, they trudged endlessly through the snow. They spent the first night in the cave she’d shared with William what felt like months ago now, but it had only been a little over a week since she’d stepped out into the blizzard. So much had happened since then, so much gained and lost, but they were still here, and they had managed to save at least some lives, and hopefully he’d learned something that would be of use to his brother-in-law.
At night, the lonely cries of the starving and lethal vampires would echo over the land, but she never spotted them within the shifting, snowy landscape. The children struggled through the snow, but though she wished she could put them on Achilles with William, she couldn’t risk injuring the horse. All of the adults switched off carrying Agnes and none of the children complained.
William sat slumped in the saddle; he had yet to regain consciousness. She tried not to dwell on the terror filling her at the prospect of him never waking again, but with every passing minute, the fear grew stronger. She alternated feeding him her blood with the blood of the animals they managed to track and capture. The loss of her blood had started to drain her; it was becoming more challenging to trudge onward and to keep her head up, but she’d do everything she could to keep him alive.
They arrived at another town on the eve of the second night. Glancing up and down the empty streets she wondered if this was the town William had told her about. She didn’t intend to go into the basement of the prison to find out; she’d had enough of prisons for a lifetime. Helping her with William, she, Abbott and Pallas carried him into one of the homes at the end of the road and placed him on the couch. Moira and one of the other vampires led Achilles to the small stable across the street before returning to the house.
Tempest knelt at William’s side; her fingers brushed his hair back from his forehead as she watched him. In the cave, she’d cleaned the blood from his body and changed him into what remained of his clothes from the saddlebags left with Achilles. The blisters and burns had faded from his skin, but the bruises from his battle remained. She stroked her fingers over his cheeks, worry gnawing at her gut, as he remained unmoving.
“You have to come back to me,” she whispered and bent to kiss his cheek. She nuzzled against him, inhaling his scent. “I need you.”
“Tempest.” She turned to find Abbott hovering in the doorway of the living room.
“What is it?”
“Someone is coming.”
Her heart plummeted into her stomach; she leapt to her feet and rushed toward the door as the last of the sun faded behind the horizon. Had they been found? They didn’t have it in them to put up another big fight; they were all exhausted, hungry and battered. She’d fight to the death to keep William protected; she just didn’t think it would be a long fight.
She pressed her face against the window in the door to stare out at the darkening street. The jingle of saddles drifted to her before the first man rode into view. Her hands pressed flat against the door; the other vampires hovered by her back as the men and women riding by continued on their trek. She was so busy praying they would go past, and keep on going, that she didn’t notice the patches on their sleeves until they were almost halfway down the street.
A strangled cry escaped her; spinning away, she tugged the patch William had given her, and that she’d reclaimed from Pallas, free of her cloak. Running toward the front door, Tempest flung it open and leapt down the porch stairs.
“Wait!” she cried, her voice strangled by hope and distress.
The startled glances of those closest to her caused them to jerk their mounts away from her. “Careful!” one of them barked.
“The queen, I must speak with the queen!” she gushed as she grabbed at the boot of the vampire who had yelled at her.
He raked her with a scathing glance. She’d washed the blood from herself, but she’d had no clothes to change into. She’d tried to button her ruined shirt the best she could, but her ripped, torn and bloody clothing weren’t helping her right now, and neither was her frantic behavior. The cloak, and what remained of her clothes, covered most of her flesh, but she still felt exposed. She tried to steady herself and compose her features before speaking again.
“Please,” she begged. “I know where her brother, William, is!”