Mason shook his head. That didn’t make sense, he already knew about the attack. “Warn me about what? We already know the kids are gone.”
“No, not that.” Fred flicked a glance to the door at the front of the bar. “You gotta get out of here, Mason. The wolves left a message. Jed’ll give the kids back—”
“Good. He’d better if he knows what’s good for him. I’m gonna take great pleasure in ripping his guts out,” Mason growled, his anger almost overwhelming him. That alpha was a dead wolf. Even if they did give the kids back, which he highly doubted, there was no way he was leaving Jed alive. Not after this.
“No, you don’t get it. Jed’ll give the kids back…if your head is on a stake by sunrise.”
Mason didn’t get time to flee. He didn’t even get time to process Fred’s words before the door to the bar burst open, and the townsfolk spilled in. Hard faces, and harder eyes watched him down the barrels of several rifles, and he knew. They were here for him. They weren’t waiting for sundown, never mind sunrise.
Instead of going for his own rifle he remained where he was, looking down at the friend who’d tried to warn him. The look in Fred’s remaining blue eye was compassionate. “Don’t blame them. They’re only protecting their kids.”
He nodded and shook Fred’s hand. “Thank you, my friend. Go easy.”
Fred smiled and clasped his other hand over Mason’s in a final farewell. “Was just waiting for you. Sorry it was too late.”
“No worries. Catch you on the flipside.”
He watched Fred’s hand slide from his. After a second he reached out and closed the single, sightless eye with gentle fingers then he stood to face his execution party.
“This is it then?”
Mason couldn’t believe his voice was so level, or calm. These people were going to kill him, and with so many rifles trained on him, there was nothing he could do about it.
“So you’re just going to kill me in cold blood?”
“Here, this way. Let’s get him to the walls.”
Mason groaned. His right side was on fire, blood soaking through what remained of his T-shirt, the rags of the fabric a match for the torn skin underneath. They’d shot him, several times. So much for not shooting an unarmed man.
None of his arguments had saved him. As soon as the first trigger had been pulled, more had followed. He had no idea how much lead he’d taken but it had to be enough to drop a damn rhino. It f**king hurt.
Clamping his eyes shut, he tried to breathe through the pain as they dragged him through the streets. He knew what fate awaited him on the walls of the town. Locking his legs and planting his feet, he pit his weight against his captors. His heavy boots dug into the dirt as he put up a fight. He was bigger built than either of the men trying to drag him, something they seemed to have overlooked. There was no way he was going anywhere near that wall. Not if he could help it. They’d have to drag him kicking and screaming, and he’d make them pay for every step.
“Christ, he’s like a bull...some help here.”
He slammed a hard elbow into the side of the guy on his right, freeing that hand. Fist clenched, he twisted and drove it upwards into the jaw of the guy on his left. The vicious uppercut dropped the smaller man without a word.
Mason moved back, his guard snapping up. It should have been a light dance on his feet, as he’d been trained in the ring, except that his side felt as if it had been caved in by a sledgehammer. He started to turn to face his next opponent when there was the distinctive click of a hammer being drawn back, and something hard was pressed against the back of his head. He froze.
“Now I’ve seen just about everything out there on the road.” Valerie’s voice was cool and calm, with an edge of suppressed hysteria no man in his right mind would mess with. “I’ve seen men get up after being filled with lead like you. But I ain’t ever seen any of them get up after a couple of rounds to the brain. What’s the betting you don’t either?”
Crap. Mason held his hands up in the universal gesture of surrender.
“Only one problem with that darlin’. Jed wants my head on a stake. You put a bullet through my brain with that, and there ain’t gonna be much of my head left. What do you think your chances of getting the kids back are then?”
Mason counted silently as he waited for Valerie to make a decision. Finally the pressure let up, and he heard the hammer click back into place. Relief and cold sweat slithered down his spine as he released a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.
“He has a point. Get him up on that wall. And make sure you have a good hold on him this time, for pity’s sake.”
He held in his curses as he was grabbed again, and Donny, the victim of the uppercut, took the opportunity to dig an elbow into the wounds that peppered his side.
Bastard, you’ll pay for that. Mason glared at his tormentor as they shoved him roughly forwards.
“I suggest you let him go. Now.”
Mason’s head snapped up as the townsfolk went for their guns. There was Andy, as large as life, standing in the middle of the town gates. In their hurry to lure him in like a lamb to the slaughter the residents of Sanctuary had forgotten Town Defense 101. Shut the f**king gate.
If he weren’t so messed up, he’d kiss each and every one of them.
“I suggest you take your paranormal ass, and hightail it out of here, missy. Unless you want your head to join his on a stake,” Donny snapped, high on a cocktail of anger, pain, and adrenalin.
“Is that so?”
A chill wind blew through the town, whipping the dust of the road and her long, black coat up into a frenzy around her. Andy slid the dark glasses down her nose to look at Donny, and then at the rest of the townsfolk, her gaze as hard and unblinking as a rattlesnake. That was when Mason realized what was different about her.
When she’d arrived in Sanctuary she’d walked and talked human. Even with his talents he’d had to see some serious evidence she wasn’t human before he believed her claim to be something paranormal. The speed and sheer lethality she’d displayed with her blades during the rescue yesterday had nearly done it, but Mason himself was proof that a human could outwit and outfight the majority of paranormals.
It wasn’t until he’d dug a bullet out of her arm, and seen for himself how quickly she healed that he’d truly believed her claims. And even now he wasn’t sure what she was, just that there was no way she could be plain old homo sapiens.
Now though, with the sky churning and angry behind her where it had been calm a moment ago, and the wind driving up a storm, there was no mistaking the fact she was something on the darker side of paranormal. Lightening cracked, and thunder rolled, leaving her highlighted in silhouette. The crowd around him drew a collective breath as just for a second she was cast into shadow, her silhouette stretching into a familiar cloaked and hooded figure carrying a scythe.
“The Lady of Death.”
The whisper ran through the crowd, from one pair of lips to another. She couldn’t be…could she? The Lady wasn’t a paranormal. They said she was Death itself made flesh and set upon the Earth to hunt down the unworthy. Which, when you thought about it, amounted to ninety percent of the current population.
“Don’t be ridiculous. That’s just a story, made up to scare the kids.” Donny had his rifle in his shoulder, but if he could aim and fire accurately Mason was a monkey’s uncle.
“You sure about that, Donald? Just because you don’t believe in the bogeyman, doesn’t mean the bogeyman doesn’t believe in you.” Andy took her sunglasses off and slid them into her inside pocket.
“H-how did you know my name?”
She shrugged, her voice calm and pleasant when she spoke. “Same way I know Valerie’s, and John’s, and Eric’s. Believe me, I’m not like anything you’ve ever met before. And you might as well put that away…” She motioned to Donny’s rifle. “Shooting me’ll only piss me off.”
“Para’s have threatened to kill us before. It’s all been hot air and illusion. None have managed it,” Valerie broke in, clapping Donny on the shoulder as she walked forwards to face Andy. Mason had to admit, she had guts.
Andy smiled. It wasn’t a nice expression. The wind rose again, more ferocious this time, moaning as it whirled through the gate and around them. A chill wind, which whispered bad things directly into the souls of all who heard it.
“You know what other names I know? How about Katie, Victor and Frederick?”
Lightening spilt the sky behind her. Mason shook his head and blinked as three figures materialized around her. Something was wrong with his eyes. He could swear the three dead townspeople stood there, as pale and opaque as ghosts. Hell…they were dead. If this wasn’t a trick, some illusion, and Andy really was who they said she was, then they could be ghosts.
As his brain tried to find some logical and scientific rationale for the appearance of the three figures, he knew. He’d felt the tug inside as she’d raised her hands and knew that she’d called the souls of the dead to her.
Jaws dropped, and rifles clattered to the dirt. Her voice, cold and terrible, cut through the mournful moan of the wind.
“You called me, and you named me. I am Death, and that man—” she lifted her hand to point at him, “—is the only thing standing between you and me. Kill him and you won’t have to worry about the Werewolves. I’ll drag you to hell myself.”
Chapter Seven
“They’re freaking out six ways to Sunday.”
Still unable to believe what had happened and his luck, Mason leaned back against the cool stone wall of the town, and watched as the townsfolk went about their business. Mostly they were keeping their distance from Mason, and the object of their fear, Andy, who knelt in front of him.
She snorted as she lifted his shirt to assess his wounds. “So they should be. I wasn’t kidding when I said I’d drag them to hell.”
He watched her. She was beautiful. Scary, but beautiful.
She looked up, a frown on her face. “Okay, handsome. Want to tell me why you’re not dead yet? You should be.”
“Sorry, sweetheart. Not a clue.” Mason shrugged as she dropped the shirt back into place. Soaked in blood, it clung wetly to his torso.
She sighed. “You’re not dead, Mason. I don’t know how or why. You look human. You walk, talk and act human. But you’re not. You can’t be.”
“Don’t talk rubbish,” he scoffed. “Of course I’m human. What else would I be?”
“That’s what worries me.” Andy stood and held her hand out to help him up. “I don’t feel the call to reap your soul, and your body is already healing the damage. You’re not human.”
Mason grabbed her wrist and hauled himself to his feet in one lithe movement. An hour ago he’d felt like he was at death’s door but now he felt energized, and raring to go. Hand still wrapped around Andy’s he looked down into her eyes.
“I’m as human as they come,” he told her firmly. “Nasty, devious…yes, but plain old human. And those wolves are about to find out why we were the top of the food chain for thousands of years.”