The wolves and their allies spread out into two groups, then began to retreat in separate directions. The humans and mages, seemingly energized by their enemies’ retreat, pressed on, not realizing that they were moving farther and farther away from their main encampment.
There was another buzzing sound—three short bursts instead of a long one this time, and Isabelle knew that was the signal to disperse. The wolves scattered away, as the humans and mages remained clumped together.
There was silence for about two seconds, which was broken with a loud, high-pitched screech, followed by a second one. The wind picked up around them, and then whipped furiously as the screeches became louder.
Isabelle looked up and gasped. Though she’d seen Sebastian Creed’s dragon once or twice while growing up, she’d never seen it quite like this. It looked menacing as it soared overhead, its giant golden wings flapping rhythmically to keep it afloat. Even more frightening was the sight of a second dragon—King Karim of Zhobghadi. His dragon was silver, but just as terrifying as Creed’s. The two colossal creatures swung in arcs around each other, then separated, heading toward the two groups of humans and mages. The humungous claws and gigantic mouths razed through the crowds, crushing through the mass of enemies. Many escaped, but the Lycans and witches were able to easily pick off the stragglers.
Isabelle was about to join in when she saw something in the distance. Near the shadow dome, a beam of yellow light burst out, shooting straight up into the sky. The atmosphere grew thick and crackled with electricity as a metallic tang wafted into her wolf’s nose. What the hell was that?
A hand touched her wolf’s flank. A human hand. For a second, she thought it was Cross, but it wasn’t. This man had cropped blond hair and a shorter, leaner build. Amber eyes gazed into hers.
“Remember me, Isabelle?” He smiled at her weakly. “We used to play at your house in Long Island when we were kids. I’m Gunnar.”
Gunnar Jonasson. Cross’s younger brother. But what was he doing here?
“You should come with me. Now.” He stretched his neck as his limbs began to grow, and white fur sprouted on his body. Red eyes bored into her, and the albino wolf swung its head, signaling for Isabelle to follow him.
What is going on? Still, she trotted after him, her gut instinct telling her this was right. Moments later, she realized they were running in the direction of the yellow light. It had grown even brighter now, and as they drew closer to the source, she gasped. A group of mages were gathered, the yellow beam shooting out from their circle. Immense power rippled from them, making the air smell thick, like smoke.
The albino wolf yowled to catch her attention and motioned with its head again. About twenty feet away from the circle of mages was a white table where a naked, dark-haired man lay prone on top, bloody and bruised. A large glass bowl was next to the table, catching the blood slowly dripping from the man’s neck. Three mages stood guard over him.
Gunnar had transformed back to his human form. Isabelle followed suit, pushing her wolf away until she gained control of their body. “Is he—”
“He’s not dead. They need Reed alive, to keep draining his blood.”
“What are they—” She gasped, then turned to the circle of mages. “Magus Aurelius.”
He nodded. “Reed’s blood is reviving him.”
“We have to stop them!”
“Isabelle!”
She turned around and saw Ransom running toward them. His face was drawn into a scowl as he glared at Gunnar. “Who the hell are you?”
“We don’t have time for this.” She pointed to the group of mages. “They’re reviving Magus Aurelius.”
“Fuck,” Ransom rubbed his hand down his face. “I’ll stop them.” He was about to march toward them when Gunnar held his hand up.
“We all will,” he said. “But first, you and Isabelle get Reed to safety. I’ll distract them.”
“What about the artifacts?” Isabelle asked.
“Cross will come with Dad soon,” he said. “They just need to help with the critically injured first.”
“Go back, Isabelle.” Ransom caught her hand. “It’s too dangerous.”
“No way!” she shouted. “I’m not wasting any more time.” She yanked her hand away. “I’m going with or without you.” Once again, she shifted into wolf form.
He let out a growl and then nodded. Together, they dashed over to the table. The mages guarding took defensive stances, ready to protect their victim. One of them raised his hands, and the earth began to shake underneath them and split open.
Steady! Isabelle directed her wolf to leap to the right as the ground opened up. Ransom followed her, while Gunnar went the other direction. Pushing her wolf as much as she could, she surged forward. Ransom was way ahead of her and landed on the powered mage, so she directed herself at the other one on the right, swiping a claw at him before he could toss a bottle of potion at her. The mage screamed as blood spurted out from his neck and hit the wolf’s face, though it continued to hold the mage down until his body stopped struggling and twisting. Glancing over at the other side of the table, she saw Gunnar had made quick work of the third mage as well.
Shifting to human form, she walked over to the white table. She touched Reed’s back, relief pouring through her as she felt the rise and fall of his breath. Ransom, who had also shifted back, turned him over and removed a small blade embedded in his neck that kept the wound open and the blood flowing without killing him outright. The thought of the mages using Reed as some kind of never-ending blood bag made her stomach heave.
“It’ll heal in no time.” Ransom hefted Reed onto his shoulders in a fireman’s carry. “Let’s go.”
As they walked away, Isabelle felt something … wrong. Where the heck was Daric and Cross? Surely, they had the power to stop the mages? Ransom
