Werewolves of Shade (Part Six) (Beautiful Immortals Series Book 6) Read online

  I tried to stifle a gasp, but it had escaped my throat before I’d had a chance to cover my mouth with my hand. Hearing me cry out, the man pulling the cart looked up and stared straight at Flint and me.

  “Hey!” he shouted, letting go of the cart he was pulling and heading at speed across the slab of concrete toward us.

  “Run!” Flint hissed at me, turning and fleeing back across the field in the direction that we had come.

  I raced after him, heart feeling as if it had shot from out of my chest and had become wedged in the back of my throat. The sound of the man’s heavy footfalls rang loud in my ears. I could hear him puffing and panting as he ran after us across the field. With each passing moment the sound of him approaching from behind grew louder and louder as he gained on me and all I could see in my mind was Flint dashing away just ahead of me through the long grass by the sign that had been fixed to the wire fence. The sign that had read, Keep Out – Trespassers Will Be Punished.

  “Flint!” I cried out, feeling the man’s hand fall against my shoulder like a hammer blow. I toppled forward, face first into the ground. The balls of my hands scraped over something jagged in the grass and my dress blew up about my legs.

  Rough hands gripped the tops of my arms and dragged me upwards. I felt myself begin to shake all over with fear as I was crudely turned to face the man who had caught me.

  “Come to steal meat, have you?” the man shouted into my face. His eyes looked bulbous in the dark as they stared hard into mine.

  “No,” I lied, shaking my head from side to side, tears now standing in my eyes.

  “What are you doing in here then?” he shouted, the smell of that meat wafting from off his breath and under my nose.

  I recoiled away from him in revulsion, but he still held onto me.

  “Let go of her,” Flint said, suddenly appearing out of the long grass. “It’s my fault. I dared her to come in here. That’s all it was – just a dare.”

  “You came to steal meat,” the man said, glancing at Flint and easing his grip on my arm.

  “And so what if we have?” Flint shrugged in a bolshie fashion. He puffed out his skinny chest and made fists with his hands. The man was so much bigger than Flint and could have swatted him like a fly. But I knew that Flint was just trying to stand up for me – protect me. He had always done that.

  “So what?” the man blustered. “The meat is scarce, it has to be rationed. If we’re not careful, it might run out, and what will happen to the people of Maze then? Will we all starve?”

  “My father used to work here and he was always bringing home plenty of meat,” Flint told him, still sounding defiant.

  “Ah, well, it’s different for workers,” the man said. “Sometimes that’s how we get paid – you know one of the perks of the job.” Then eyeing Flint, the man added, “What was your father’s name?”

  “Brody Kirk,” Flint said.

  “Good man,” the worker nodded. “But that don’t mean I ain’t going to report this to the Night Watchmen.”

  “You really don’t want to be doing that,” Flint said, stepping toward the man.

  “And why not?” the man glared.

  Flint stood on tiptoe, and cupping his hands around his lips, he whispered something into the man’s ear. The man still had hold of my arms. And whatever it was that Flint had said, I couldn’t help but notice the man’s eyes grow dark and wide. He looked at me as he let go of my arm.

  “Just get out of here and don’t come back,” he said, a deep scowl furrowing his brow. “Or next time I will report you to the Night Watchmen.”

  “C’mon,” Flint said, taking my hand and leading me away at speed. “Let’s get out of here before he changes his mind.”

  Hand in hand we raced across the field and back toward the fence. I wasted no time in climbing back through the hole. Once we were back on the road, I looked at Flint and said, “Thanks.”

  “What for?” he said, setting off back in the direction of town.

  “For coming back to help me,” I said.

  “Why wouldn’t I?”

  “Why would you?” I asked.

  “Because you’re my girl, Mila Watson,” he said, looping his arm through mine.

  “What did you say to him?” I said, glancing sideways at Flint.

  “To who?”

  “That man of course,” I said, “What did you say that stopped him for reporting us to the Night Watchmen?”

  “I told him that I would kick his arrogant arse if he didn’t let you go,” Flint said, a grin spread wide across his boyish face.

  “What did you really say?” I asked.

  Flint looked at me, then changing the subject, he said, “I’m sorry I didn’t manage to get any of that meat for your supper.”

  “It doesn’t matter” I said, that pungent smell of overcooked meat still fresh in the air. “I don’t think I’ll ever want to eat it again.”

  And it was that same sickly scent that I could smell now as I stood semi-conscious, tied to the pole deep in the woods. It was the smell of meat cooking. It wafted under my nose. It was the same stench that I had smelt when I had dared to go through that hole in the fence with Flint as young teenagers. It was the same odour as the one that had drifted from those bloody slabs of meat my uncle had cooked on the grill. It was warm too, just like it was on those long summer evenings I used to spend with Flint. And as I stood bound to the pole in the clearing deep in the woods, my skin felt hot, like the sun was beating down on it. But that couldn’t be possible; there was no sun, it was night. It was dark and should have been cold. So why did I feel so hot? Why was my skin prickly with heat? Why did my blood suddenly feel like it was boiling in my veins?

  Still feeling woozy from where the vampire had slammed my head into the pole, I slowly opened my eyes. Through my flickering eyelashes, I saw an orange glow at my feet. That was where the heat was coming from. It was radiating up the length of my body in waves, just like the flames…

  “Flames!” I screamed, snapping open my eyes and staring down at the seething fire that had been set alight at my feet. Angry flames leaked upwards, consuming my boots and jeans. I was on fire. I was burning to death at the stake the vampire had tied me to.

  Chapter Four

  The flames licked all about me. They came up to my knees. I could feel my flesh bubbling and blistering beneath my jeans that were now alight. The heat from the flames singed my face as I looked down at the twitching and dancing fire. Throwing back my head against the pole I was tied to, I screamed in agony. I had never felt such pain. It was intolerable. The planks of wood and tree branches that had been piled at my feet sent flurries of smoke and sparks up the length of my body. I struggled against the pole, desperate to try and free my wrists from the rope that held them securely behind my back.

  “Help me!” I screamed, sucking down a throat full of choking smoke. It smelt and tasted of my own burning flesh. Memories of the meat my uncle had cooked – the meat I had intended to steal with Flint that day – seesawed in the front of my aching mind. I screwed my eyes shut against the agonising pain and the smoke that stung my eyes. And in the darkness of my mind’s eye, I saw myself walking past the butcher’s shop in Shade. I saw those red lumps of meat in the front window, blood running from them. I saw Annabel and Clarabel’s father looking back at me from behind the tray of bloody meat. I saw blood dripping from his fist and the meat clever he clenched in it.

  Throwing back my head again and releasing another gut-wrenching scream, I opened my eyes. The clearing was now full of smoke, the smell of cooking flesh and the glow of the licking flames.

  “Help me!” I screamed. “Please somebody help me!”

  But even if my friends should hear my cries and come in search of me – even if they found me in time and set me free – I knew that I would never walk again. The fire that now seethed against my body had consumed my legs. The tips of the flames now jigged and twisted about my waist. I cried out again, coughing up lungfuls of
the black acrid smoke. I listened for the sound of gunfire – the screech of vampires – over the crackle, hiss, and spit of the logs burning at my feet. But the roar of the fire was now so great I couldn’t even hear my own cries of pain.

  With my eyes barely open and willing unconsciousness to take me again, I peered through the simmering flames and saw what looked like a giant wolf saunter slowly into the clearing. It was followed by another and another. It was impossible to see how many of these giant hounds had come from within the woods as the wavering flames and smoke blurred much of my vision.

  “Help me!” I cried out to them, the ends of my long blonde hair now turning black and smouldering.

  The wolves stared back at me through the smoke, their eyes as bright as the flames that now almost totally consumed me.

  “Why won’t you set me free?” I screamed at them. “Why are you letting me burn?” The tears that fell from my eyes quickly evaporated against my face.

  Throwing back their heads, the wolves released a series of throaty howls. But yet they didn’t come forward to help me – to set me free.

  “I know you understand me!” I screamed at them, my lips now dry and flaky in the rising heat. My eyes had started to feel hot in their sockets. They felt like they might just explode in my skull. I looked down and saw the flames greedily crawling up my hair.

  “Please,” I whimpered, the last of my strength seeping from me as I writhed burning like a human torch against the pole. “All I ever wanted to do was help you.” But the last words I’d muttered didn’t sound like my own. It was as if someone else other than me had spoken them.

  I glanced up one last time and peered out through the flames as the werewolves sat and watched me burn. Dropping my head and letting the flames consume me fully, I fell forward. Had the fire burnt through my restraints? I hit the ground hard. I drew in another deep breath, but this one was cool and there was no smoke. Had I died already? Was I breathing in the clean air of the afterlife? My hands were free, I felt no pain other than the slightest of burning sensations about my wrists. I opened my eyes. I was in the clearing, but there was no fire. Lifting my head from off the leaf-covered ground, I peered back toward the pole. There was a young woman tied to it, but it wasn’t me. Her head was cast down so that I couldn’t see her face. And just like I had been, she was tied to the stake with rope. Reaching out for her, wanting to set the woman free – to prevent her from burning to death, I crawled toward her. But as I drew nearer, I could see that it wasn’t a person at all. It was a statue. Dragging myself to my knees, I reached for it with one trembling hand. Before my fingertips had even so much as brushed against it, the statue disintegrated into nothing more than a pile of ash that now covered the scorched-looking wood that had been placed at the foot of the pole in the centre of the clearing.

  “Mila,” someone said very close to the side of my face. I jerked sideways and glanced to my right. Calix was kneeling beside me. He was holding up the rope that had been used to bind my wrists in one hand and a knife in the other. “Are you okay?”

  True friend to me or not, I never thought I would be so happy to see him. Was I dreaming? Was this one last dying hallucination before I finally died – burnt to death at that stake? Was it my own body I had seen crumble away to nothing more than a pile of ash? Feeling bewildered and totally confused, I grabbed for Calix, sinking deep into his arms and resting my head against his tattooed chest. I needed to feel a real, living and breathing body against me. I needed to know that I was alive. With my head pressed flat against his chest I listened to the steady thump-thump-thump of his heart. Looking up at him, I pulled his face down next to mine. Closing my eyes, and with one hand pressed flat against his chest, I kissed him. Almost at once, I felt his heart begin to speed up beneath his hard chest. The deeper the kiss grew the faster his heart raced – the faster my heart raced, too. As the slow realisation dawned on me that I was alive, I slowly broke the kiss.

  “I should save you more often,” Calix said, still holding me in his arms.

  “You saved me?” I asked.

  “I noticed that you had gone missing from the fight, so I came looking for you” Calix started to explain. “I found you in this clearing tied to that post.”

  I glanced back over my shoulder at it. “Was I on fire?” I whispered.

  “That kiss was pretty hot,” Calix said.

  “I’m being serious,” I said, looking back at him.

  “And so was I,” he said, reaching for me again.

  I slid from his hold and pulled myself up. I looked down at my legs, at my arms, and then touched the ends of my hair. Not one inch of me was burnt.

  “Are you okay? Mila?” Calix said, and this time he wasn’t joking or jerking about. I could see a flash of concern in his dark eyes for me. Perhaps he really did care. Did he care enough to listen to me tell him I believed I had just burnt to death in the clearing where we both now stood? Did he care enough not to laugh and ridicule me like he had so often done before? Not convinced yet of Calix’s true feelings for me, I looked at him said, “Apart from being dragged halfway through the wood and being tied to that pole by a vampire, I’ll live.”

  I brushed twigs and dead leaves from off my jeans, hoodie, and hair. I took the gun from my waistband.

  “You won’t need that again tonight,” Calix said, looking down at the gun then back at me.

  “What about the vampires?” I asked.

  “All of them are dead apart from one,” Calix said, heading away from me out of the clearing.

  I followed him into the wood. Placing one hand on his arm, I stopped him and said, “Why do you think that vampire tied me to that pole? Why do you think it didn’t kill me while it had the chance?”

  “Dunno?” Calix shrugged. “Perhaps it was gonna come back and eat you. I’ve heard that vampires like a bit of fresh meat from time to time.”

  Without saying another word, Calix turned and headed deep into the wood, back in the direction from where the vampires had come.

  Chapter Five

  I followed Calix back through the wood. We didn’t talk. My mind was preoccupied with what I had seen while I had been tied to that post. I hadn’t been burnt to death in that clearing, but someone had. I had seen her. And deep inside I believed it was Julie Miller’s eyes that I had been looking through. But that would be impossible, right? No more impossible than vampires and werewolves. No more implausible than the wolf that appeared each night at the end of the garden path. No more unreal than the werewolf that crept into my room each night then into my bed. Why couldn’t I have, then, in some way, been looking through the eyes of Julia Miller, the woman Calix had said had been a witch? And if she truly had been a witch perhaps she had left some kind of spell in that clearing – perhaps she had left some ghostly essence behind? Both Trent and Calix had said that the witch had placed a spell over Shade and, in fact, left one inscribed all over Calix’s body – so why not in the place that she had died? But that was no normal death – that had been a sacrifice. But who had sacrificed her and why? Through the flames I had seen several wolves – werewolves. Why hadn’t they helped her? She had called out to them. But they had done nothing to save her. It was like they just stood and watched the witch burn to death. I wasn’t sure now how I felt about living in the house of a witch who had been sacrificed by werewolves. But if the wolves had killed Julia Miller, why, then, did one of them keep coming to my room? He had called me Julia; did he believe that I was her? Did this werewolf not know that she had been burnt alive at that stake? And what of the diary I had found in that secret place behind the painting in Julia’s study? There had been a picture of Trent tucked between the pages of that book. Had both of them meant something to each other? Or had Julia hidden the picture of Trent for some other reason?

  Ahead of us, in the direction that Calix was leading me, I could hear voices. I reached for my gun. Remembering that I had run out of bullets, I let my hand slide away again. As we drew closer to the voices, I
knew it was Rush, Rea, and Trent I could hear talking. In the distance I could see them silhouetted by the thin strips of moonlight that filtered through the branches overhead. Hearing us approach, Rush looked up.

  “Hey, Mila,” he said, coming toward me and taking my hands in his. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” I said, glancing sideways at Calix. I let my fingers slide from Rush’s hold and put them in the pockets of my hoodie.

  “What happened?” Rush asked.

  “I found her tied to some tree in the middle of the woods,” Calix answered for me.

  “It wasn’t a tree,” I corrected him.

  “One of those fuckers tied her to it,” Calix said, looking toward where Rea and Trent where standing nearby.

  I followed his stare and could see one of the vampires on the ground at their feet. It lay curled on its side, hands tied with thick looking heavy chains. Its hood was pulled up so I couldn’t see its face or tell if it had been the vampire who had dragged me through the woods. Stepping away from Calix and Rush, I approached the vampire that was held captive on the ground. I reached down to pull back its hood. Trent suddenly knocked my hand away.

  “Don’t touch it, Mila,” Trent warned me. “The vampire might be chained up but it can still be dangerous.”

  “I just wanted to see its face, that was all,” I said.

  “Why?” Rea said, a smouldering cigar jutting from the corner of her thick red lips. The end of it glowed fiercely as she drew in a deep lungful of black smoke. I thought of the flames that had licked about my feet – I thought of the hot, choking smoke that had filled my throat – Julia Miller’s throat.

  “I wanted to see if it was the same vampire that took me…” I started.