The Lycans Luna Witch

Chapter 5

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Addie

My legs are sore. Especially after sitting so long on the bus after my escape from the castle, the muscles have stiffened and now ache. I am also hungry. Early this morning, I ate the last rusk Mrs Johnson gave me and drank all the water. The rusk was dry, and with my throat still aching, it was difficult to swallow. Thus, I was now out of water and thirsty.

Moaning aside, I had made it a whole night, covering so much distance and easing the fear in my chest the further away from Silas' territory we got. And while I could have stayed on the bus all the way into Graves, I got off at the stop a couple of miles outside of it.

A mistake I would later regret as a noise up ahead has me diving into a bush, branches scratching my skin open in places.

Second later, I hear voices, and then a gentle breeze picks up their scent, immediately freezing me in place. Vampires. New ones. Fuck. The witch at the bus stop said vampires were not welcome here. Had she lied?

"What are we going to do? There is no way we will make it into the town without being killed on site."

I peek out, spotting the one who has just spoken, his brown hair slicked back against his head.

"We don't need to go into town; they will come to us. And once they alert The Werewolf King, he will come. When we see him, we will release this." The other vampire, a more sinister-looking one, with his black hair similarly slicked back and a large scar running over his left eye, opens his hand, a small round black ball on his palm.

"The Black Witch said it would be enough to knock him out. Once he is down, we kill him."

"What if they come with reinforcements?" The brown-haired vampire sounds scared, his eyes raking the forest as he speaks.

"They might, but Larry's group will keep them distracted further up." The black-haired vampire smirks and pats the other guys' shoulders reassuringly.

"Besides, The Black Witch said that The Werewolf King will come alone."

"That's what she says, but can we trust her?" The brown-haired vampire doesn't look convinced, and the black-haired one eyes him with frustration.

"She wouldn't lie to us. She is sired to our King. She cannot lie." A shiver runs its way down my spine. Silas. They were talking about Silas. And a sired Black Witch? How was that possible? I had heard of other vampires being sired but never another species and most certainly not a witch. Besides, he was always telling me that witches were killed on sight. I suspected he was trying to instill fear in me, knowing what I was, as if he was somehow protecting me by keeping me captive as a slave.

"Shhh, someone is coming. Tell the others to get ready." They move quickly and disappear just as a large brown wolf jumps into the clearing where they were standing. It paws the ground, its nostrils flaring, and follows the trail to where they stood just moments before.

Seconds later, its ears perk up, and it growls just as six vampires, including the two I had just seen, appear. Either from behind trees or jumping down from their perches overhead. Fuck. I look up, hoping no one is in my tree. I was lucky they hadn't seen me. They have an excellent sense of smell, so I can only assume the scent blocker on the jacket Benji gave me is still working.

"You're outnumbered, mutt." The black-haired vampire sneers, and then, with a dip of his head, chaos erupts.

I expect the fight to end quickly, as I think the rest of them did. But this wolf is not easy to take down. Three vampires are torn to shreds in a matter of minutes, and the brown-haired one whimpers as he looks at the socket where his arm used to be—the one hanging from the wolf's mouth. Not that the wolf hasn't sustained any injuries himself. He is limping, and one side has a horrible-looking wound, the fur around it soaking red as he loses vital blood.

I squeal as a hand covers my mouth, and then I am yanked backward.

"Shhhh, you need to get out of here." I turn my head, my eyes meeting with large brown ones. It's a small woman with blond hair—a wolf.

She releases my mouth and then me before pointing in the opposite direction.

"Go." That is the last thing she says before she shifts into a small brown wolf and leaps into the clearing, standing beside the injured bigger wolf. At the same time, five more vampires approach from the other side, spreading out to block any escape routes.

I turn, about to run, but the thought of leaving them alone makes me hesitate. She would die, so would he, and I would have run away like a coward.

Crouching down, I crawl forward just as the attack starts again. The two wolves hold their ground, killing four of the seven remaining wolves. One arm has disappeared, perhaps fearful he will lose another arm. The bigger wolf, however, is sluggish, the blood seeping from his wound the culprit. While he battles the two other wolves, the black-haired vampire and the smaller brown wolf face each other. She is fast and agile and, at this point, probably the more significant threat. A movement behind her catches my attention. It is one arm. They have her sandwiched. If one arm gets her from behind, it is over.

Looking around, I grab a medium-sized rock and crawl around the tree next to me before standing up. This puts me directly beside one arm. He is so focused on what is happening before him that he doesn't see me.

With a scream, I jump forward, hitting him square on the side of his head. He tumbles forward while the small brown wolf lunges, my distraction giving the wolf an opening to grip the black-haired vampire by his neck.

He is fumbling around in his pocket, his eyes wide with shock.

Shit. He is looking for the small black ball containing whatever The Black Witch concocted.

"His pocket! Don't let him get it!" I shout, my throat screaming in protest, as the small brown wolf catches my gaze just as one arm lunges and kicks me, his boot landing a painful blow to my ribs. The crack, followed by a burst of pain, has me crumbling to the ground.

I scream again as he climbs on top of me and then punches me hard in the face, little dots of light floating in front of my vision as I blink to clear it. Liquid runs down my cheeks and even into my mouth. My blood. He must have broken my nose.

It is just pain—everywhere. It is all that I am, and it consumes me—until it doesn't. A gust of wind filled with the most potent scent of mint engulfs me, followed by a roar and a squawk, as one arm is ripped from his position on top of me and flung into the air.

For a minute, I think the sun is gone, but then I realize it is just a massive figure blocking it out—a gigantic, hairy, wolf-like figure standing on two feet and smelling like my favorite scent in the world: mint. It is so intense it pushes the pain away, and I reach out, my hand grasping at the air as I struggle to focus, trying to clutch onto the relief. Desperate, as I feel death approaching me.

Moments pass by as I struggle to stay conscious, my breathing difficult and my hand still clutching away, until finally, sparks erupt, and a massive hand threads through mine.

And then, for a brief moment, my vision clears, and a face, millimeters from mine, becomes crystal clear. It is him.

Gunmetal grey eyes are the last thing I see before I am gone. 

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