Wulfe Untamed (Feral Warriors #8)(48)

Tighe stepped forward. “How many Abominations did he make, Strome? How many are in that blade with him?”

Strome was back in an instant. “By the time I was enslaved, he had created hundreds. Since I do not know how much time passed between my enslavement and Satanan’s defeat, I cannot begin to guess. Nor do I know how many were captured by the blade.”

“More than seven thousand Abominations . . . wraith Daemons . . . were captured in that blade with Satanan,” Wulfe told them, “Along with the captured souls of fourteen other races, including Satanan’s own Daemons.” Why did he keep opening his mouth and letting this crap come out?

His brothers stared at him as if he’d grown a second head.

Vivian/Strome watched him with interest, then slowly nodded.

“How many Daemons left part of their consciousness behind like you and Satanan?” Lyon asked.

“I don’t know. From the moment I broke away until Vivian found me, I was lost, inert. I came awake inside her and will live until she dies. If other wisps of consciousness survived as I did, they are likely long gone by now.”

Vivian/Strome’s gaze turned back to Wulfe. “Why have you endangered your effort to keep Satanan from escaping?”

Wulfe frowned, his muscles tensing, the need to do battle leaping inside of him. “What do you mean?”

“Why did you make a channel key?”

Wulfe frowned, then slowly turned to granite. “I didn’t.”

“You did.” Vivian/Strome’s gaze turned to Natalie. “Her.”

Chapter Thirteen

“What?” Wulfe stared at Vivian and the Daemon consciousness shining from her eyes, then gripped Natalie’s hand tighter. Fuck that. He curved his arm around her shoulder and hauled her tight against him, the fierce need to protect her barreling through him. “I did not make Natalie a channel key.”

“Is that why I’m glowing?” Natalie asked quietly.

Fuck, f**k, f**k. Wulfe’s head began to pound. “I couldn’t have made her a channel key. I don’t even know how!”

Delaney had been made into a channel key by Tighe’s evil clone and . . . goddess . . . he’d infected her with Daemon essence, then carved a pentagram into her chest that would have killed her if not for Tighe’s intervention and the miracle that Tighe’s animal spirit orchestrated, making her immortal in the process.

He had not done that to Natalie. He hadn’t. But inside, his wolf began to howl.

Vivian/Strome watched him steadily, sympathy in hard eyes. “It can only happen in one way. A connection must have been opened between the two of you, and dark energy, primal energy, allowed to fill it.”

“I didn’t . . . I would never . . .” But he had. With a slam of understanding, he knew what had happened. “She was cut by a wraith Daemon. I took her wound for my own.”

Vivian/Strome began to nod slowly. “That might do it. How long ago was this?”

“A month.”

Hard eyes narrowed. “About the time I sensed your awakening. In making her your channel key, you must have triggered your own dormant Daemon blood. What’s more, I now understand the source of the energy that is strengthening Satanan. He’s empowering himself through your connection to your channel key, pulling primal energy through both of you, probably without your even feeling it.”

This just got worse and worse.

“How do we stop him?” Lyon demanded.

Wulfe’s neck muscles felt twisted like a rope. He pulled Natalie in front of him and wrapped both arms around her, the need to protect her screaming through him even as the scent of her, the feel of her warm body against his, calmed him, if only a fraction.

“How do I unmake a channel key?” Because he had to undo this. He had to make it right.

Vivian/Strome glanced from one of them to the other. “I’ll share no more with you until you’ve freed Vivian. The rest will be over the phone.”

Lyon shook his head. “She’ll not be harmed unless we deem her . . . or you . . . a threat. But she’ll remain in this cell until I say otherwise. I want the Shaman to examine her. You’ve nothing to fear from him. He’s an ancient and honorable soul who will not harm her.”

“Pal,” Vivian said, clearly back in the fore, clearly talking to Strome, now, “I’ve already told them exactly who I am and where I work. Unless I run away from everything I know, they’ll be able to find me within hours. I think we should trust them. I think we can trust them.” She turned to Lyon, her expression rueful. “I’m sure you can understand how hard it is for an alpha male and former commander to ride in the passenger seat. He wants so badly to protect me. But he can’t.” Her gaze sharpened as she eyed Wulfe. “I hope we didn’t make a mistake in seeking you out.”

Wulfe glanced at Lyon. He wouldn’t speak for his chief.

“If Strome is what he says he is, an honorable spirit,” Lyon told her, “then neither of you has anything to fear from us. We’re at war with the Mage who are trying to free Satanan. You’ll forgive us if we’re overly cautious. But we would welcome a genuine ally, especially one who can help us to better understand our enemy.”

Vivian nodded. “Strome wants the mic.” She closed her eyes, and, a moment later, the Daemon was back in control.