I don’t know what to do. If I head back to the house and the guys aren’t there, I am going to lose time. If I head to the Society and Damon finds me, I have no idea what I’d do, but I don’t think I am strong enough to fight off an ancient vampire.
I take a step down toward the lawn as a pair of ravens land on the quad about twenty feet away. Then another pair settle on the plinth where the founder’s statue once stood. Then two more ravens drop down, followed by another pair and another and another.
A field of ravens is not something you see every day. I take them all in, easily a hundred pairs of the giant black birds, all of them watching me, their dark eyes blinking and their heads quirking from side to side, as if waiting for me to tell them what to do.
The edge of my mind blurs and fades as the pull of Tobias blooms inside my head. I don’t know what he wants me to do. I close my eyes and conjure his energy, calling his rough, edgy essence to me. He doesn’t come, instead I am drawn to one of the ravens perched on a branch in a nearby tree.
It sits with its partner, the two of them huddled together on the branch. The larger one croaks once, and the vibration of its call reverberates right through me like a cymbal, resonating in my chest until it becomes a solid hum running over my breastbone. Right under the raven mark, the gift I received the night my magic sparked.
The raven croaks again, pushing the hum deeper inside me, like a hook snagging the core of my spirit. It takes hold and with a little tug, it starts pulling me outside of myself.
I close my eyes and all at once I am seeing the quad through hundreds of tiny black eyes. The raven takes flight, lifting off, weightless and determined. I am flying with it, within it, seeing the world through its eyes. I know I am still standing on the steps of the infirmary. There’s a vague sense of my body waiting for my return. But none of that feels important as we soar across the quad, through the trees and up over the campus, climbing higher and higher into the night.
Chapter Fifteen
MARCO
Wake up.
So much blood. The metallic tang of it fills my senses, overpowering everything. My wolf usually delights in it, the hints of iron and copper a sure sign that we’re about to feed. But something’s not right. I can’t feel my feet. I…
Blood drips into my eyes. My blood. It’s moving over my… my ears… and down my snout. I watch it run like tears to the tip of my nose and then collect until it falls in a drop onto the puddle on the floor, then another falls to the floor, leaving a divot in the pool that smooths as it settles. That doesn’t make sense. Why is it moving in that direction?
My body comes alive in a burst of pain and flashes of searing heat. I buck against it. I want to run, my wolf wants to run, but I can’t move my feet. I can’t… I can’t move at all. I’m trapped in some kind of hold and…
Shit.
I’m hanging by my feet and my arms are bound together and tied to something next to me. I search my memory, trying to remember what happened. I don’t remember shifting. The last thing I remember is being called into Allbright’s office at the Cottage with Van. After that, nothing.
Marco? Are you awake? Talk to me.
Angus is here? Ang? Where are you? I can’t see shit.
I’m behind you.
Where are we? Where’s Van? What the hell happened?
He’s here. Can you turn around? I think I found a way out of here.
I crane my neck and manage to swivel myself a little, waiting for the momentum to spin me around. As soon as I get a look at the space behind me I wish I hadn’t. Angus and Van are strung up by their feet, hanging from a beam about twenty feet in the air. They are covered in blood. Their own blood. It runs in streams down their bodies, matting in their fur and dripping to the floor and collecting in a trough.
Oh my god. This is a wolf gallows—it’s how they used to execute shifters in the middle ages. Who did this? How did we get here?
So much blood.
I’m fading again. I can feel myself growing sleepy.
Marco! Stay with me, bro. I need you.
My eyes open and I have a view of Van. He isn’t moving. His limp body dangles from the gallows. He’s lost so much blood it’s almost impossible to tell what color his fur should be. I watch his chest, trying to catch movement that tells me he’s still breathing. I can’t hear him at all.
Van! Wake up!
Van’s body twitches. He moves his head just the slightest bit. His fur parts and that’s when I see it. The thick iron collar that used to be our prison. The slave collars the vampires used all those years ago.
Oh my god. No.
I turn my head and take another look at Angus. Sure enough, he’s wearing his old collar too. I’ve lost my mind. This isn’t happening. I’m dreaming. I’m having a nightmare and in my nightmare, my brothers and I are going to die.
Marco! Angus interrupts me. Stay awake! He didn’t secure your collar. I can see the clasp from here. It isn’t secure. Can you shake it off? If you shake it off you can shift. I need to you to try.
I hear my brother’s words in our shared wolf think, and I understand what they mean, but I can’t make them make sense. How
