Soul Taken (Mercy Thompson #13)(94)

Vampires were not supposed to kill their meals. In return, no one would tell the mortals that vampires were real. It was a pact that had stood for a very long time. It was better for all of us. The vampires followed the agreement, more or less, and were careful to hide the bodies when they “forgot,” which was often enough to leave vampires’ homes haunted by their victims. I couldn’t trust Wulfe, in his altered state, or the Soul Taker to leave Warren alive.

I reached out and grabbed the walking stick without looking for it—the best way I’d found to make sure it showed up. As soon as my fingers closed on the carved surface, I surged to my feet.

The door exploded.

Well, not really “exploded.” But it burst open with a noise that indicated bending metal and splintering wood. It felt even louder than it actually was because as soon as the door opened, the bond I shared with Adam lit up with information.

And if I had ever, once, doubted that I was loved, if I had ever doubted that my husband was a scary monster who would kill anything that threatened me, that moment disabused me of it. Which was only fair because I felt the same way.

Adam went for the vampire feeding on Warren. But without even looking up, the Harvester vanished. I hadn’t known Wulfe could teleport—though Marsilia and Stefan could, which implied an inherited gift. No reason that it could not have come from Wulfe.

Deprived of his target, Adam hit the bed rather than tripping over Warren. The two-by-eight of mahogany that served as the long side of the bed frame cracked and broke, and the legs dug deep gouges into the hardwood floor. It hit the wall with the speed of a locomotive, and other parts of the bed and the drywall and the wainscoting took an impressive amount of damage. Adam kept on his feet but howled his rage at missing his rightful kill, as the pack, all of them still in human form, poured into the room.

“So,” I said into the silence that followed, “I’m afraid we got complacent, even after two warnings. Maybe next time you should give us three?”

Without a word, Adam stalked over and wrapped me in his arms, picking me up off the ground. It hurt all of my various bruises. Most especially it hurt the long cut across my back. There had been several moments during which I’d been pretty sure I wouldn’t get to do this again. I hugged him back.

“Warren’s breathing okay,” Darryl said. “But there’s something weird about the way he feels in the pack bonds. Feels like corruption.”

Adam let me go. “You’re sure you’re okay?” he asked.

“A few cuts and a cursed weapon to hunt down,” I told him briskly, ignoring the aching bones and muscles that I knew would get much worse once the adrenaline wore off. “I’ll find time to gibber in a corner with fear as soon as we’re all safe. But I’m good.”

Adam went to Warren, who hadn’t stirred. Mary Jo, a trained EMT, was going over the back of his head and neck with careful hands. There was a fireman’s axe on the ground beside her, her favorite weapon.

“I don’t know why he’s unconscious,” she said. “How long has he been this way, Mercy?”

“I’m not sure,” I said. As much as I wanted to check on Warren with my own eyes, I stayed back. Mary Jo and Adam were better with first aid. “I was busy, and that makes time feel odd. And I got hit with a magical whammy that laid me out. The Harvester took Warren by surprise. Maybe he hit Warren with a magical whammy.”

Yes, said Aubrey from right beside me. I can see it. But it’s fading.

I didn’t respond.

“The vampire’s trying to bind him,” said Darryl flatly. “I can feel it.”

His eyes were gold, the pupils small. I wondered how long he’d been dealing with his wolf trying to get out. From Auriele’s surreptitious glances, I figured it might have been a bit too long for comfort.

Adam nodded. “I can feel it, too.”

“We can keep him in the cage until we can get Marsilia to free him,” Darryl said.

“Assuming she can,” said George.

“She freed me,” Darryl growled.

“Those bastards who got you weren’t Wulfe,” Auriele said, sounding worried.

Adam moved Mary Jo aside and sat on the floor beside Warren. “I learned a little trick while we were in Italy,” he said. “Let me see what I can do.”

He pulled Warren around, then leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead.

Lips still touching skin, Adam said, “Wake up.” The words carried the push of the power of the pack Alpha, and I could feel him draw upon us. This was nothing unusual. Adam could call upon any of his wolves.

Warren’s eyes opened and Adam caught his gaze.

The gateway to the soul, I thought.

Adam forced power down the pack bonds and thrust it into Warren. The magic rose in every werewolf in the room until they all wore their wolf’s eyes. I heard a few growls.

Warren’s body jerked in reaction, but he didn’t fight to break eye contact.

“Change,” Adam told him. Outwardly that wasn’t anything special, either. Forcing a wolf’s change could help them heal. I’d also seen it used as a disciplinary move a time or two, in order to reinforce the knowledge that the Alpha was the wolf in charge without resorting to outright violence.

But what Adam did with his power as Warren began to change was different. It felt like he was burning through Warren with what I could only describe as spiritual fire as Warren’s body altered.