Davina (Davy Harwood #3)

“And we’re supposed to have The Immortal on our side,” Christian’s voice bellowed. “Where is she?”


“Brother,” Pippa said. Her head turned up, regarding him.

He ignored her, glaring at Roane. “You’re the leader, but you come in here wearing our enemy’s blood.” He gestured around them. “Look at my men. If you wanted a battle cry, you got one. The smell worked them into a frenzy. They must have blood of their own now. They have to spill their enemy’s blood for themselves.”

“We have to wait.” But as Roane said it, he knew they wouldn’t.

He smelled the wolves’ blood thirst. It was intoxicating, even to himself. It was bringing the Hunter in him alive again, the Hunter that he thought was long gone. Even now, as Christian started to speak, Roane wasn’t paying attention. The Hunter mark on him started to burn. It was awakening and he closed his eyes. He needed to allow it to return. He had been stripped of his Hunter privilege, but for a reason unknown to him, it was being returned to him. He was no longer only powerful because of Davy’s blood, but because of his ancestry.

“. . . We have no choice,” Christian was saying.

Pippa added, “We have to go.”

Roane didn’t look at her. He hadn’t paid attention to the wolf that was Davy’s friend. It hurt too much, remembering the times when Davy fought for this one, proclaimed she was friend and not foe. That had been when Davy was safe, not like now. She’d been gone for so long . . .

Wren stepped next to him. “The witch is gone, but we’ll fight with you.” She glanced to Roane, then back to Christian. “It’s why we all came here.”

“It’s not time.” Roane shook his head, but he knew it was pointless. They were going. They had waited too long.

“It’s time, Lucas Roane, Hunter of the Hunters’ bloodline.” Christian spoke to him, but he wasn’t paying attention anymore. His gaze was directed beyond Roane’s shoulder and he turned to see all of the wolves there. They were waiting. Then, one by one, they began to change into their wolf form. When they were all done, they turned as one and formed a line. Two by two, they began to leave. Roane stepped back with Bastion and Wren. As they watched, Christian and Pippa transformed as well and followed their bloodline.

They were going to war.

Wren said, when they left, “It’s not enough. They’ll all die.”

Roane asked Bastion, “You sent your man?”

Bastion nodded. “I did.”

“Would he have had time?”

“I don’t know. I . . .” Bastion took a breath, hesitation on his face, but it cleared. He was the fastest of Roane’s men. “I could go, if you want me to.”

“What?” Wren’s head whipped around. “You are not thinking what I think you’re thinking. You are not leaving . . . are you?”

“I can go. He would be there by now, but coming back—”

They needed help. Roane realized that as soon as he saw how many Benshire wolves and Romah vampires there were. He had his own men, and he sensed them now. They heard the exchange. They knew the wolves were heading out, but they were waiting for their own leader. Roane didn’t want to send his men to fight. They would die. There were too many Romah vampires. They were older, and they had magic. Davy was their ace in the sleeve, but they couldn’t get to her.

“Roane.”

He glanced down to the ground. Wren spoke his name, standing beside him, and he knew why. He felt his men. They had come, standing not far, and he knew why they were there. It was the same reason they came on this journey with him. It was time to fight. It was that simple. The wolves, who had come to be their ally, were going. They would go to their deaths. They didn’t have Davy, but he couldn’t put it off any longer.

It was time.

He turned around. Wren turned with him. Bastion was on his other side. It was too late. If he sent Bastion, he wouldn’t get back in time. No matter what, the war was here and it had already started.

He spoke quietly, but every vampire heard him as he said, “We came to fight.”

The excitement and adrenaline filled the air. Each vampire was on high alert.

Wren said, “We’re ready.”

Roane nodded. “Then we fight.”

He turned and led his men to join the Christane wolves. So be it who fell and who lived at the end.





DAVY


She could feel the Mori. She knew exactly where they were, even the little babies in the mothers’ wombs, and she walked toward them. Her feet glided soundlessly over the forest as she kept moving forward. Davy walked and walked. She wasn’t aware of the time, the weather, even where she was. She could’ve been walking on a cliff’s edge and she would’ve kept going.