Page 102 of Of Flame and Fate

“We’ve tried, God damn it,” Hank hollers. “You’ve been unconscious for almost twenty minutes. We’ve been calling her non-stop, but the fucking mutts won’t let us talk to her.”

I whip out my phone from my back pocket and search my favorite’s list, immediately tapping Celia’s number. The line goes to voicemail as another vampire wails and ash erupts in a cloud.

“Celia, it’s Taran. Misha needs you. You have to come.”

My phone falls out of my hand when Misha lunges at me. Agnes shoves me out of the way, up the incline, and toward the house. The others tackle him, trying to subdue him and forcing him in the direction of the guesthouse.

More ash, and now blood. Misha is out of his mind with grief and rage.

“Celia needs to be here,” I say. “He needs to know she’s still alive.”

“What?” Agnes asks. “Why would he think she’s dead?”

They didn’t see the vision I had. They didn’t see her die. But Misha did. Just like he saw his mother murdered.

Growls erupt as well as hisses, the anger behind them startling my already fragile nerves. My vision sharpens as the amount of supernatural magic around me intensifies. I think it’s Johnny, but then I seeher.

Celia storms across the garden flanked by a small army of werewolves in beast form.

“Stand down,” she bites out through her teeth, the severity in her tone and stance making me and Agnes back the hell up.

I think she’s speaking to the werewolves, but it’s the vampires who give her and the wolves ample berth. Her eyes widen when she sees Misha close to the path that leads to the lake.

The cluster of vampires struggling to restrain Misha back away when he falls eerily still. Like a statue, he remains unmoving, his long, deadly nails draped at his sides and his wild gaze focused on Celia.

“Oh, my God, Misha,” she rasps.

She hurries forward only to be intercepted by a white wolf with patches of silver and black peppering his back.

“I’m not arguing with you,” Celia snarls at him. “I’m telling you, you need to get out of my way.”

The wolfchanges, leaving an immense male looming over her, his dark skin slick with sweat. “Aric won’t like this,” he practically barks at her. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

“My mate will understand,” Celia tells him.

I’m not entirely sure that’s true. At the very least, Aric might snap someone in half. I just hope that someone isn’t me.

Celia whips around when Agnes lurches forward, her nails out and her fangs exposed. “I told you to stand down,” Celia snaps.

“The master is in trouble,” Hank shouts, storming to Agnes’s side. “If these mongrels keep you from helping him, truce or not, they’re not leaving here alive.”

I’m ready for Hank’s head to come to a rolling stop at my feet. But instead of using brute force, sympathy splays along my sister’s beautiful face. He’s scared, but she is, too.

“Hank, trust me,” she says, speaking quietly.

I’m glad she’s calm. I’m not. Not with the way the wolves form a ring around her, their haunches tightening as the vamps close in, and not when whatever humanity Celia returned to Misha drifts further away.

I push my way toward Celia, only to be wrenched back by Hank.

“Taran, stay where you are,” Celia tells me.

And maybe less blood will splatter on your cute clothes,she doesn’t add.

The wolf, the naked one who stands over her frowns. “Aric will understand,” she repeats.

He sniffs, trying to uncover her lies. But Celia isn’t lying.

Whatever he scents in her makes him nod in the direction of the wolves. “Let her pass,” he orders.

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