Returning to Rhane’s side, he pressed his furry body against Rhane’s leg and guided him.
Bailen trembled. A second later, Rhane smelled them. Heavily acidic, ancient and wild, the smell of kindred was unmistakable. Even more disconcerting was the smell of kindred blood—lots of it.
Rhane slipped the Desert Eagle from its holster and aimed the pistol wherever his eyes looked. He didn’t want any surprises. The amount of blood that hung in the air, sticking even to the wet surroundings, wasn’t a good sign. He didn’t know what to expect, but he knew it was bad. Real bad.
Senses crippled in the freakish storm, a whimper from Bailen alerted him that they were not alone. Rhane spun to face what stood behind him, and came to face to face with the one he so desperately sought. But her appearance stopped him from gathering her in his arms as he wanted to. It also stopped him from lowering the gun.
Kalista’s head was bent. Her dark hair hung limply, dripping with water stained pink from residual blood. Her skin was ghostly white. Her eyes were wild and black. She stalked forward slowly, her movements giving Rhane the impression he was being hunted. Bailen whined.
Kindred blood covered her body from head to toe. There was so much of it; Rhane highly doubted the victim could’ve survived. A ball of dread knotted his gut. If she had fed from such a thing, she would not be herself…and she would be extremely dangerous.
He kept his eyes and the gun trained dead center of her heart. A sharp pain tore through his chest when he considered pulling the trigger. “Kalista,” he said, hoping to reach her.
Her eyes were blank. She continued to slink toward him.
“Kalista, this isn’t you. I need you to come back.” Though he shouted over the wind, there was no evidence the words reached her. No sign of recognition flashed across her face. What had caused this? How many had she killed? The questions sliced through his brain like a hot wire.
Rhane fired. But the aim was over Kalista’s left shoulder, and the bullet sailed harmlessly past her. Apparently, it was exactly what was needed. Kalista blinked. Her eyes lightened from black to a more human shade of grey.
“Rhane?” She sounded genuinely confused.
Relief washed over him, but it was only for an instant. He lowered the gun slightly. “Kalista, are you hurt?”
“I—I…” She muttered the rest incoherently, moved toward him again and stopped. Her eyes had finally registered the gun. Her face widened in horror. “What have I done?”
He didn’t answer. He couldn’t. But his expression must have said a lot.
Kalista sobbed. She made an attempt to stagger toward him but collapsed, splashing into a puddle of water. She didn’t move again.
Rhane uttered a curse, hating himself for not going to her, for causing her pain. He walked over to her sagging, dejected form and crouched down, touching her face lightly. Her skin was ice cold and clammy.
“Damn it, Kalista,” he whispered.
Movement beyond the trees caught his eye. Rhane reached his feet in a flash. Tucking the gun away, he withdrew Bellefuron and dropped the blade into a low guard. With the hilt pulled back to his hip, it was a very effective, nearly impenetrable stance. The sword required closer range than a gun but guaranteed more damage and greater accuracy. Bellefuron’s weight was reassuring. And Rhane needed that reassurance. He was about to face a horde of very pissed-off kindred…alone.
Chapter 13
Rhane stood over Kalista with Bailen’s growl loud and steady in his ears. Shadows moved through the rain. The hulking figures became clearer as they drew closer. It was a pack of kindred, creeping forward on all fours. The creatures were immense. Why their mimicked human forms were not apparent in absence of moonlight, Rhane couldn’t begin to guess. Other things pressed more urgently at his mind.
Rainwater slid from the kindred’s greyish hued skin, coursing over knots on their
Bailen trembled. A second later, Rhane smelled them. Heavily acidic, ancient and wild, the smell of kindred was unmistakable. Even more disconcerting was the smell of kindred blood—lots of it.
Rhane slipped the Desert Eagle from its holster and aimed the pistol wherever his eyes looked. He didn’t want any surprises. The amount of blood that hung in the air, sticking even to the wet surroundings, wasn’t a good sign. He didn’t know what to expect, but he knew it was bad. Real bad.
Senses crippled in the freakish storm, a whimper from Bailen alerted him that they were not alone. Rhane spun to face what stood behind him, and came to face to face with the one he so desperately sought. But her appearance stopped him from gathering her in his arms as he wanted to. It also stopped him from lowering the gun.
Kalista’s head was bent. Her dark hair hung limply, dripping with water stained pink from residual blood. Her skin was ghostly white. Her eyes were wild and black. She stalked forward slowly, her movements giving Rhane the impression he was being hunted. Bailen whined.
Kindred blood covered her body from head to toe. There was so much of it; Rhane highly doubted the victim could’ve survived. A ball of dread knotted his gut. If she had fed from such a thing, she would not be herself…and she would be extremely dangerous.
He kept his eyes and the gun trained dead center of her heart. A sharp pain tore through his chest when he considered pulling the trigger. “Kalista,” he said, hoping to reach her.
Her eyes were blank. She continued to slink toward him.
“Kalista, this isn’t you. I need you to come back.” Though he shouted over the wind, there was no evidence the words reached her. No sign of recognition flashed across her face. What had caused this? How many had she killed? The questions sliced through his brain like a hot wire.
Rhane fired. But the aim was over Kalista’s left shoulder, and the bullet sailed harmlessly past her. Apparently, it was exactly what was needed. Kalista blinked. Her eyes lightened from black to a more human shade of grey.
“Rhane?” She sounded genuinely confused.
Relief washed over him, but it was only for an instant. He lowered the gun slightly. “Kalista, are you hurt?”
“I—I…” She muttered the rest incoherently, moved toward him again and stopped. Her eyes had finally registered the gun. Her face widened in horror. “What have I done?”
He didn’t answer. He couldn’t. But his expression must have said a lot.
Kalista sobbed. She made an attempt to stagger toward him but collapsed, splashing into a puddle of water. She didn’t move again.
Rhane uttered a curse, hating himself for not going to her, for causing her pain. He walked over to her sagging, dejected form and crouched down, touching her face lightly. Her skin was ice cold and clammy.
“Damn it, Kalista,” he whispered.
Movement beyond the trees caught his eye. Rhane reached his feet in a flash. Tucking the gun away, he withdrew Bellefuron and dropped the blade into a low guard. With the hilt pulled back to his hip, it was a very effective, nearly impenetrable stance. The sword required closer range than a gun but guaranteed more damage and greater accuracy. Bellefuron’s weight was reassuring. And Rhane needed that reassurance. He was about to face a horde of very pissed-off kindred…alone.
Chapter 13
Rhane stood over Kalista with Bailen’s growl loud and steady in his ears. Shadows moved through the rain. The hulking figures became clearer as they drew closer. It was a pack of kindred, creeping forward on all fours. The creatures were immense. Why their mimicked human forms were not apparent in absence of moonlight, Rhane couldn’t begin to guess. Other things pressed more urgently at his mind.
Rainwater slid from the kindred’s greyish hued skin, coursing over knots on their
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