Page 58 of Prey of the Lycan Queen
One at a time, I watch my coven being hauled into the gaping door where Malachi was taken, and once they enter, I lose sight of them. Regan will find us. I have to believe it’s enough.
My heart sinks even further as they drag Zeke and Lyon from the van, both of them seeming far away and dazed by something. Lyon’s eyes flicker wildly with desperation, his sense of self slipping slowly as the hallucinations warp and twist his mind.
His body begins to convulse savagely in a way that’s becoming more familiar with each passing moment. As soon as he wakes from his trance, his eyes snap to me, but it does nothing to abate the rage bubbling within him now that there is no one left to protect or sustain him, except for me.
I’m all they have here in this place where everything seems so very wrong yet strangely powerful all at once—like an old manor house built atop an ancient graveyard. You never quite forget its history, and it’s clear, despite this state the mandrake root has him in, Lyon still holds on to some memory of me. For how much longer, I don’t know. But for now, I still exist in his crazed mind because the moment a guard tries to grab me, he snarls.
Lyon launches himself at the guard. Despite being bound, he still tears through the guard’s throat with his teeth, viciously mauling flesh, bone, and muscle alike in pursuit.
Some primal urge long since sublimated, suddenly regaining control over every other thought sensation until restored back into sanity. The guard screams out in pain before finally collapsing, while his surrounding colleagues raise their guns toward us in panic and terror.
Despite the confusion writ upon their faces when Lyon turns on them, the guards only stall momentarily. “Drug him! Don’t shoot! We need him alive!” Slavic orders, but his words don’t take effect quickly enough because the moment he gives them the order, Lyon attacks, breaking his restraints and charging the king. They all fire their guns simultaneously.
My scream is deafening when I realize they did not use darts but actual bullets. Lyon stares down at his stomach and chest in shock. The air wheezes from his lungs out the holes that litter him. He staggers, falling to his knees, and Zeke thrashes. My vision tunnels as I grow weaker, taking on his injuries.
Zeke falls quiet. “Idiots! Heal him! If he dies, they all do!” Slavic screams.
Despite the fear coursing through me, I force myself to breathe deeply, pressing against the invisible walls closing around me as Slavic’s earlier words replay in my mind. “Nobody wears fear better than you, dear”
I shake off the cold chill as I lose my vision. “Please hurry, Regan, I don’t know how long they’ll last,” I whisper to the wind. For me. For Zeke and Lyon, their once vibrant spirits now dulled under the influence of the mandrake root.
For my coven.
For Malachi.
I have to believe he’s okay, that he’ll come for us because, until I shift, we’re all sitting ducks.
Chapter Forty-One
A ferocious, violent wind howls past us, pelting the stolen truck with shards of icy rain as we speed along the desolate road toward Bloodtaric. The taste of metallic bitterness on my tongue is the only reminder I need that I’m losing time. My control is slipping. Leila and my father are huddled together in the back seat. My father is no longer hallucinating, but he’s still unconscious. James is silent beside me, a brooding figure swallowed by the darkness outside. The wolves, their menacing white fur now blood-red, are contorted into the truck bed. They bear a striking resemblance to bloodstained gargoyles perched atop a gothic cathedral.
The silence is deafening, punctuated by the rhythmic swoosh of the windshield wipers as they fight off the relentless downpour we have driven into. It’s nearly lunchtime, and time is running out. Once that full moon rises tomorrow, it’s only a matter of time before I drop dead. We all know it. My deteriorating state is growing more evident.
My muscles tense as my vision warps dramatically. I’m no stranger to the creeping darkness, but the hallucinations are new. James’s face suddenly morphs into a grotesque monster, and I’m fighting him, clawing and snarling. A blink later, and it’s Leila, her face a twisted mask of fear. But each time, reality crashes back with a vengeance, leaving me disoriented and guilt-ridden.
My fingers ache from clenching the steering wheel so tightly. Leila looks around nervously, her eyes wide with panic. My father remains unresponsive, his chest rising and falling steadily in his sleep.
James’s voice is low and menacing as he speaks. “Not far now. The Kingdom. . .” His voice trails off, and I glance at him. “Regan?” he asks cautiously, but why does his voice sound so mocking?
I suddenly feel like I’m floating away from my body, and reality shifts strangely around me. Everything feels off-kilter and surreal. James’s face is shifting from its normal form into a monstrous one again. His eyes are a deep red that fills me with terror. I jerk away from him in fear before stopping myself. It was only an illusion caused by my deteriorating condition, nothing more than a figment of my imagination . . . right?
“Regan!” James screams. I look at him. “What?” I snap, wondering why he is screaming. He snarls, grabs the steering wheel, and jerks the car back onto the road. I had veered into oncoming traffic. “That’s it, pull over before you get us killed,” he snarls.
The car swerves dangerously as I fight to regain control. Fur grows along my arms, and my conscious mind knows he’s my uncle, but instinct tells me he is one of them. A leech. A vampire that needs to be taken down. My basic instincts kick in as I fight to regain my senses.
The ominous scent of fear fills the air. Leila’s shrill scream echoes around me, and my uncle’s angry growl joins the chaotic symphony. I’m losing myself. I can’t tell if it’s day or night. Am I surrounded by friends or foes? The ticking clock in my head grows louder with each passing moment. I’m a bomb waiting to detonate and end us all.
“I’m fine,” I lie through gritted teeth. James’s skeptical gaze, illuminated by the occasional flicker of lightning outside, makes me feel like I’m under a microscope. But I can’t show any more weakness. Not now. Not when we’re so close to our destination.
The metallic tang of blood fills my mouth, my heart pounds violently, and there is a throbbing pain in my skull as the beast within me wars to take control. Each hallucination, each loss of control, pushes me closer to the edge.
The weight of our mission adds to the ever-growing mountain of responsibility. We need to reach Bloodtaric. We need to save our own. I glance back at Leila and my father in the rearview mirror. Leila stares back at me with wide eyes, and I see her white-knuckled grip hanging onto the door handle.
The wolves in the bed of the truck howl in unison, but the roaring wind swallows their voices. I square my shoulders and force myself to focus on the road ahead when a hand drops onto my shoulder. I look up to see Leila’s eyes peering back at me.
“Please, Regan, pull over. I can’t save my coven if I’m dead, and you can’t save Zirah if you are. Pull over and let James drive,” she says softly.
“Just a bit further,” I mumble, more to myself than anyone.
