The Lady in the Mist (The Western Werewolf Legend #1)

  ***

  "Major, she's comin' around."

  Her back was cold as ice. Sonja grimaced with the pain of opening her eyes. A fire burned brightly in a hearth across the room.

  Boots scraping the floor in an uneven stride brought her upright. The man limped in and nodded, his head bobbing in excited agitation. No one could tell her he was all there. Simple and dirty were the two words that came to mind. More pain shot up the back of her skull. Gingerly, she reached up to see if she had been injured.

  "See! Hee hee, I told she'd wake up before dark. Huh, didn't I?"

  "Yes, you did, Higgins now shut the hell up and leave us alone." Perkins tone brooked no argument.

  The man scurried away as fast as his limp would allow. The sound of his inane ranting trailed after him.

  "So, werewolf, you're awake."

  "Where am I?" Her throat protested vigorously at having to speak at all, but Sonja forced out the question in a croak.

  "You're alive. That should be your most immediate concern for the time being." Perkins snide retort made her temper flare. His intimate perusal of her body beneath the sheer material of her nightgown repulsed her.

  What was it about men like Perkins, which made them think all women were objects to be possessed? She intentionally turned her head, studying the accommodations. The room was small and dank. The cold stone bench she had rested on was damp as well. Her body suffered for it. Rubbing absently at her arms to promote some blood flow, she concentrated on the fire in the heart. Vampires were scared of flames, so the warmth of the fire surprised her. Perkins was a vampire, Sonja was sure, as sure as she could be without examining his fangs. She had smelled him out the day he road into her yard and stepped on her porch. A draft of air and the man stood next to her. Sonja's head came up. She stared into those black eyes with a sneer forming on her lips. Perkins backhanded her. Stars burst behind her eyes as Sonja cried out. She tasted blood and silently cursed the Yankee cur for his cruelty. "You must enjoy hurting women, vampire." Wiping the blood trickling down her jaw, Sonja glared at him. She would not be unprepared the next time.

  "Women are one thing, bitches are quite another. You'll find it best to hold your tongue around me, bitch." He smirked as he glanced into the fire before focusing on her once more. "I'm told you hold the gift."

  The weight of his statement settled solidly on her chest. The last fragile thread of hope dissolved with his words. Sonja had hoped there was not any truth to Hortence prediction. The witch had seen a vision in the smoke. The vampires would come seeking her life-giving gift. The tale passed from generation to generation that a great she-wolf would arise and vanquish the enemies of the wolves. But, the elders also said if a vampire drank all the blood of the gifted one, then they would be invincible even to wooden stakes and fire. Soon, vampires would kill all the remaining wolves and rule over the human world for eternity. That is unless she stopped them.

  "I'll take the gift to my grave. You'll never see a drop. Do you understand me?"

  He chuckled. His belly shook with the ill-placed humor. "Oh, to be sure, I understand, bitch." He bent, bracing his hands on his thighs. Peering deep into her eyes, he countered in a gravely sincere tone. "To be sure, she-wolf, you will go to your grave, but I will have all of your blood first."

  Something snapped inside. Sonja had acknowledged it briefly before she growled, lunging for him. Perkins bared his fangs and braced for the fight. Their bodies slammed into each other and rolled toward the hearth. Straining to hold him at bay, Sonja bore down. The vile stench of his demonic aura poured from his pores. The demons utilized the odor to hypnotize their enemies. Her blood protected her against the aura. She remained unaffected.

  The likelihood that she would survive was slim. Sonja fought the vampire with all her will to live. She wanted more than anything else to live she realized even if she was a werewolf. The gift was not who she was, the gift was a part of her. Throwing her weight into the counter move, Sonja flipped Perkins head over heels before springing up, ready for the next attack.

  His chest heaved, but his dead, dark eyes remained focused. "Too bad about the witch," he taunted. "You really shouldn't have led me straight to her hovel."

  Perkins words struck her in the heart. Sonja realized she had put Hortence in harm's way by seeking her out. "What have you done?" she snarled. Her breath came ragged and rapid now. Her blood ran hot under her skin.

  "Oh, to be sure, she put up a good fight. Even tried a spell or too on us." Perkins stepped sideways stalking her. "She put up a good fight. But in the end, our superiority won out." He shook his head as yellowed teeth shone in an evil grin. "You were too late to save her. My condolences," his tone sarcastic and cruel, Perkins threw back his head, laughing aloud. Motioning to the guard, he pointed to Sonja. "Take her to the cell."

  "No!" Sonja howled. "You won't get away with this. I'll kill you with my bare hands, demon. Count on it." With that, she lunged at the guard's throat, teeth snapping, she sensed the change even before it began. Pain, excruciating and powerful gripped her. Her bones broke, reforming as muscles wrapped and reformed to meld with the infinite change she endured. With a glance in the glass pane, Sonja realized Hortence had been right. The full moon appeared. She had become the creature of lore and fantasy. She latched on to his neck, sinking her fangs into his flesh. Flesh, soft and pliant gave with the attack. Decayed and rancid, the taste of the vampire's flesh had her wanting to retch. Sonja held on, though, and soon the warm, coppery taste of blood filled her mouth, running down her jaws to mingle with her white fur. The tingling sensation that filled her as she stood atop the vampire grew in intensity as she tore at his flesh, ripping his throat. Somewhere in the recesses of her mind where rational information lay, she found the answer. Sonja shredded his neck. When she had reached his spine, she ripped it from his body, slinging it in a kind of frenzied triumph. She vanquished her first foe.

  The rest of the Yankee vampires charged the bolted door. Her mind reeled with the heady satisfaction of the kill, but with that knowledge also came the warning she was still in grave danger.

  The bolt on the door gave and in rushed the vampires. She counted four welding swords. Outnumbered, she attempted to make it to the doorway. If she could escape, at least in the open she had a better chance of getting away.

  In numbers, the vampires crossed the floor bloodied with their leader's lifeless, headless body and came for her. The first ax sank deep into her hind leg. Excruciating pain like she had never experienced before gripped her in its teeth. One vampire launched himself at her neck. Despite her efforts to hold him off, the vampire managed to sink his teeth deep into her throat. The blood rushed through her veins as if commanded by the vampire's fangs. With so many on her, she struggled, fighting with everything, she had, but in the end, it would be for naught. Her strength under such odds was failing. Her power, though magnificent at heeling, proved no match when confronted by so many evil demons at once.

  Suddenly, the sunlight broke through the gloom that hung in a great cloud over the forest. Weak with exhausted, unable to go on, Sonja imagined she witnessed what happened next.

  On a steed as black as coal, he rode. The gleam of his long sword bore witness to his strength. His face, though concealed, held determination in the clenching of his jaw. She could see his eyes glowing from beneath the brim of his hat with a brilliant blue light.

  "Demons, meet your maker!" he bellowed. Swinging the sword, he decapitated the nearest vampire. The one with the ax shifted, wielding the weapon at the rider. The air sizzled with the speed of the blade as it sliced near his leg in the stirrup. Deftly, the rider countered the blow. The demon's head went rolling with a backhanded sweep from the sword.

  Ty's voice called to her. "Nymph, seize the moment. Make them pay." From deep within her, a renewed surge of strength reared up, washing over her.

  A determi
ned smile creased her mouth as she caught the blade the rider threw her. With one hand on the demon's hair, she pulled the vampire from her neck. Quickly, she sliced across his throat using a flip of her wrist. He slumped at her feet on the stone floor now coated in blood. Only one remained. Sonja sprang to her feet, the cut in her thigh already beginning to heal. Before the rider could turn the horse, the vampire used the reaction time to disappear out the door and vanished completely.

  The dark-haired rider slid from the black stallion and came toward her. Sonja still riding on adrenaline stood feet braced hands at the ready for any aggressive move on his part. Despite her own strength and resistance, he gathered her close. The rider removed his hat. She looked into Ty's eyes. With the rush of battle still evident in his eyes, he paused, his gaze intently vigilant on her face. Running his fingers along the slim line of her thigh, he traced the wound, noting the encouraging pink skin beginning to cover the opening.

  Without an anchor in a storm that could switch course at any moment, Sonja stood in her lover's embrace, waiting. What he had to say was the most important thing she would ever hear.

  "I take it I scared you back at the house." His glance strayed from the examination of her wounds to her eyes. The coolness of his tone left her with a strangled sense of dread.

  Words eluded her. Sonja's throat ached. How could she explain her reasons for using her blood to heal him? Selfish and greedy, she had taken his choice from him, giving him, a burden no one deserved. Unable to hold his gaze, she dropped her eyes to the hilt of the bloody blade in her hand.

  "I?I wanted?to tell you." She turned beseeching eyes on him and wished fervently for some sort of help. The room remained coldly silent. Sonja shook with the chilly dread building in her.

  "Did you really?" His question hit her in the heart. He mocked her.

  "I didn't know what else to do!" she blurted. With a plea for understanding, she splayed her hands still coated in blood and took a tentative step toward him.

  Ty stepped back. The look on his face broke her. Tears began to fall unheeded.

  "Don't you think those are a bit much?" He shook his head. "After all, you tricked me. Now you expect me to believe you're sorry?"

  "Hortence didn't tell me what my blood could do." Her voice ranged out of control. Sonja dropped her head. Tears mingled with the blood on the blade. "She had only time enough to assure me I had the gift."

  "The gift," he repeated.

  Wiping at the tears staining her face, Sonja nodded. "Yes, she said I was the chosen one. The one to which the new generation would be born." She wiped at her eyes. Sniffling, she wiped her nose on the bloody sleeve of her nightgown. Blinking, she looked up into his face and tried again. "With my blood, my pack and all those that followed would never die, no matter what. The healing is part of the gift." She laid the blade aside, before managing to gather her hands in clenched fists. "Don't you see, Ty? When I found you, you were dying. Hortence told me the blood had healing powers. You were too far gone for any help, so?I?gave you my blood." She hung her head. Misery, Sonja thought she had experienced. Her heart did not beat for her anymore, it beat for him. Shimmering into a wolf, she disappeared into the woods surrounding Hortence cabin.