Book One: The Girl (The Sanctum) (10 page)

CARTER BRESLIN

Head of The Sanctum, Leader of The Circle of Ten

Distinctive Member of the Founding Families

TO:

ALL ACADEMY HEADS

Sanctum Members

RE: ROGUE WEREWOLF

It has come to our attention that a rogue werewolf, in frequent contact with the Hybrid, is within the vicinity of New York City.

It is to be captured and brought in for questioning.

Do not kill the werewolf.

In Good Health,

Carter Breslin

Wyatt and Ryker
scaled a building on one hundred and seventieth street and then worked their way across town by way of the rooftops. Earlier in the afternoon, The Sanctum reported sightings of a lone werewolf behaving erratically, believed to be banished from her pack and linked up with the hybrid. New York Sanctum hunters and warriors were sent uptown to find and eliminate the wolf but failed in their mission so Wyatt and Ryker were called in to finish what others could not. Both boys knew the trip uptown was a dead-end but they went through the motions anyway, each privately thankful to escape Darby’s house and have some time alone.

“Were you ever going to tell me?” Ryker asked Wyatt as he watched his friend scope the rooftops for anything out of place.

Wyatt stopped and rested his hand on his blade, staring downtown, watching the street life below him.

“I was.”

“So why’d you lie to me?”

Something in Ryker’s voice caught Wyatt’s attention and he turned towards his friend, the slightest of grins crossing his lips.

“If I didn’t know better, I would say your feelings were hurt.”

“Don’t blow me off, jerk,” Ryker stated as he passed Wyatt and crossed onto the next roof, headed west, looking totally serious but with a hint of laughter in his voice, “you know my feelings are hurt.”

Wyatt watched Ryker walk away, his departing figure silhouetted against the setting sun, looking every bit the super hero, minus the cape. He started to call to him, but before the words escaped his lips something slammed hard into Wyatt’s back and sent him flying across the roof, sliding into the high ledge with a sickening thud. The impact shook him up badly and it took him a second to get his bearings to scan the area for his attacker.

“Ryker,” was all Wyatt was able to say before being pounded into the wall again. Much to his surprise, a woman had him around the neck and proceeded to repeatedly slam his head into the concrete. Her eyes glowed yellow with the rage of a wolf, her claws raked the skin of his neck, his chest, his arms, cutting him deeply, drawing long streams of blood and strings of flesh; she fully intended to end his life. Wyatt desperately reached around for his blade, for any weapon nearby, all the while fighting to hold onto consciousness. For the life of him, he could not recall someone getting the better of him in battle. But now, not only was this wolf bettering him, she was killing him.

Then as quickly as the attack began, it ended. As he slipped from consciousness, Wyatt wondered whether the werewolf was moving on to attack Ryker. He tried to call a warning to his friend but his voice was gone. Wyatt’s last thought was to grab Odara, in case the wolf came back for him, hopeful whatever magic his blade held would protect him once again. And then everything went black and Wyatt was gone.

Ryker cleaned his long-sword as he stood over the body of the wolf. He had no idea what could have enraged her so, but she was dead now and that was all that mattered. As he put away his weapon, he watched the intricate tattoo on his left arm extend itself slightly onto his hand. It was one of the mystical inkings of The Sanctum warrior and Ryker was supposed to be proud to wear them, but he often felt conflicted about the artwork covering his chest and arms. He didn’t want to wear the brutality of his life on his body, there as a constant reminder of the countless lives he had ended. And although he knew he had no choice, Ryker wished he could scrub most of the detailing off forever.

He also knew this would never happen. He was a Morrison and as his father had repeated so often, Morrisons were warriors, so Ryker stopped wishing for the impossible and turned his attention to his best friend. He knelt beside Wyatt’s body, checking the long cuts running down his neck, torso and arms. They were deep and brutal, but Ryker felt he could heal them. He inhaled deeply, a relief like no other washing over him, apprising him of the fact he had been holding his breath the whole time, worried about Wyatt.

Ryker hadn’t heard Wyatt call his name, but he had felt Wyatt’s panic when the wolf attacked and the rest was history. Their connection ran so deep that even when he wasn’t focused on Wyatt, he could sense his friend’s well-being. Ryker killed that wolf without a thought for her guilt, all that mattered was saving Wyatt. That was all that ever mattered when it came to the boys.

“Uhhhh,” Wyatt moaned as he came around, slowly moving his hand to touch his shredded neck.

“Don’t touch it, man. It’s nasty,” Ryker leaned over Wyatt, beginning to dress his wounds with mjestec paste made by The Sanctum healers, renowned for its ability to heal even the worst of injuries but also the excruciating pain it caused as it worked its magic.

Wyatt screamed bloody murder as Ryker went to work on him, doing his best to move quickly and efficiently over his friend’s body, wondering if Wyatt would remain conscious throughout the ordeal.

“Ryker! Please stop,” Wyatt begged, “I can’t take anymore.”

Ryker didn’t listen, knowing if the tables were turned and he had suffered such life-threatening injuries, Wyatt would do the same. He tuned out Wyatt’s agony and focused on his rhythmic application of paste and voile wrap, paste and voile wrap, paste and voile wrap until all of Wyatt’s wounds were treated and protected. By that point, Wyatt had blacked out again from the ordeal; Ryker pulled his friend close and waited for his return.

“Next time you’re mad at me, please find a less-brutal way of taking out your anger,” Wyatt quietly joked as he regained consciousness for the second time that night.

Ryker grinned as he started checking Wyatt’s wounds under the voile, making sure they were properly treated.

“Next time, should I kill you instead?”

Wyatt laughed and then moaned in pain.

“I think I’d prefer that.”

Ryker looked down on Wyatt, checking each of his eyes closely, wanting to see his pupils to make sure his friend was truly all right.

“I’m not going lupine on you, don’t worry,” Wyatt assured Ryker.

“Can you just shut up and let me do this?”

Wyatt sat quietly as Ryker continued his exam, amazed at the deadly turn the afternoon’s run had taken, shocked at the nighttime sky and how long he had been unconscious. Suddenly he grabbed his friend’s arm.

“If there’s even a hint of gold, you’ll finish me, right?”

Ryker studied his friend for a minute, remaining thoughtfully silent.

“You’ll use Odara and just end it. Fast.”

Ryker loosened Wyatt’s grip on his arm and took his friend’s hands in his own, staring down on him hard, making sure Wyatt paid very close attention to every word he was about to say.

“I would never, and I repeat, never end your life. I don’t care if you were metamorphosing into a wolf-vamp-demon that would hunt me until my dying days, drain me of every drop of blood in my body and then cast a spell on me so you could do it all over again. It wouldn’t make a difference. I would rather spend the rest of my life avoiding you than spend it without you.

“So the answer to your question is no, if you’re about to go wolf on me tonight, I will not use Odara on you. Not tonight or ever. I’ll just wait for you to complete the turn and then get you to turn me as well,” Ryker grinned down at his friend, “you’re going to need someone to teach you to be a badass wolf anyway.”

Wyatt returned his friend’s smile, knowing Ryker was telling the truth. Despite The Sanctum’s decree that any member turned by a Magical, be they werewolf, vampire or demon, was to be killed right away, no questions asked, Wyatt knew Ryker would never follow such an order, even if failing to do so resulted in Ryker’s death sentence.

“Ryker,” Wyatt began, his voice hoarse with pain, “I should have told you back there in the park. When I saw that girl. Something happened right then. I should have told you. I was going to, I swear. But then I stood outside myself for a second and looked at the situation in all of its insanity and I thought you’d think I was crazy, so I shut up. And started lying instead.”

Ryker listened to his friend’s confession, knowing he would never hold any of what Wyatt was going to say against him, nonetheless wanting to hear his explanation.

“I can’t explain it and this is going to sound crazy, but the first time I saw that girl, I felt connected to her. Like I know her. Despite the fact she refuses to speak to me, has tried to kill me and I have the slightest inkling as to her name,” Wyatt chuckled drolly, “but I know her.”

Ryker joined Wyatt’s laughter, recalling the girl’s absurd death request.

“She’s tried to kill you? I thought she wants you to kill her.”

“She does. But I won’t and that pisses her off so then she tries to kill me instead. And even then, I feel this pull towards her, like this sick need that fuels everything. I think I’ve officially lost my mind. In fact, I know I have but it doesn’t change a thing. I am going to do whatever I must to protect her.”

Wyatt sat up and moved to lean against the high wall, the pain of his wounds coursing through every fiber of his being.

“Protect her from what?” Ryker asked, watching his friend’s bandages as Wyatt moved, making sure they didn’t open or tear.

“The Sanctum.”

Ryker knew this was the answer, but that didn’t lessen the shock of hearing those words from his best friend’s mouth.

“Last time I checked,” Ryker cast Wyatt a mischievous look from the corner of his eye, “you are The Sanctum.”

“Ah, yes,” Wyatt closed his eyes and smiled, looking both tired and amused, “there is that little dilemma.”

“Yeah,” Ryker laughed, “that little one.”

“Honestly, it’s more a problem for her than me.”

Ryker raised a questioning eyebrow in Wyatt’s direction upon hearing that statement.

“I don’t think she’ll ever see me as anything but Sanctum,” Wyatt explained, “but for me, I stopped being Sanctum the second I saw her.”

The Academy called
Ryker’s phone several times, but he repeatedly allowed it go to voicemail. His main goal was to keep himself and Wyatt well-glamoured while he got his wounded friend back downtown. Ryker wanted Wyatt to head back to The Academy to be examined properly by their well-trained doctors, but Wyatt refused, insisting on returning to Darby’s.

“This is Morrison,” Ryker finally answered his phone.

“Ryker, where is Wyatt?” Sam Clayworth asked, an almost desperate sound in her voice.

Ryker cringed. Of all the calls he had to answer, he would pick the one from Wyatt’s mom.

“Sam, we located the rogue wolf and by her behavior, she had definitely been excommunicated by her pack. I can’t confirm any contact with the hybrid because the wolf attacked and had to be destroyed before we could question her. We’re heading back downtown now.”

“That’s great, Ryker,” Sam stated, barely listening to the rundown of the evening’s events, “but I’m looking for Wyatt. He hasn’t returned my calls and I’m starting to get worried.”

Wyatt reached for the phone, taking it from Ryker’s hand while leaning on his best friend for support.

“Mom, you’re back.”

Sam breathed a sigh of relief upon hearing her son’s voice.

“Wyatt Clayworth, I swear. If you don’t want me to mother you, I would suggest answering your phone when I call.”

“I’m fine, mom. And I missed you, too.”

“Don’t change the subject, Wyatt.”

Sam tried to sound stern, but Wyatt could hear the smile on her face. As The Academy co-leader, she knew her role as mother came second to that as head of The Academy, but every so often she could not help herself. She hadn’t seen her son in over a week, and although she knew he was out on a mission, commanded by one of her own Master Warriors, when he didn’t return her calls, the mother in her took control.

“I’m not changing the subject. I’m just helping you step out of your mom pants and back into the cape of The Sanctum. Like Ryker said, we killed the wolf. She was a little crazy. We’ll pass along a report of our findings first thing tomorrow morning. Right now we’re headed to Darby’s.”

Wyatt prayed his mom would hang up soon. He wasn’t sure he had enough energy to keep the conversation going.

Sam laughed at her son, happy to hear his voice but still concerned.

“Are you sure you’re okay? You didn’t get hurt, did you?”

Ryker heard Sam’s question and stifled a snort. Wyatt tried to elbow him in the ribs, but was too exhausted to make contact.

“Totally fine. A couple of scratches, but nothing major. She took the brunt of the fight,” Wyatt lied, hoping it would be the last he had to tell for a while.

Sam still wasn’t satisfied her son was okay, but she relented, not wanting to sound overprotective and panicky. After all, she was an Academy Head. If she could not have a warrior sent out on a mission without worrying about his or her well-being, then she needed to resign her post.

“Okay, Wyatt. Enjoy a well-deserved night off,” Sam paused, then incapable of stopping herself, added, “I love you.”

“Love you, too, mom.”

Wyatt ended the call and handed the phone back to Ryker before collapsing in his friend’s arms. Ryker grabbed him around the waist and hoisted him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, knowing he was strong but not certain he could carry Wyatt’s six foot two inch frame another forty blocks any other way. By the time he reached Darby’s doorstep, Ryker was positively exhausted. He rang the bell and waited for the tiny vampire to answer, too beat to reach for his keys and open the door himself.

“Hey,” Wyatt called from behind Ryker, “you can put me down now.”

Ryker set Wyatt down on his feet, leaning him against the wall to keep him steady, and fished for his keys in his pocket. Wyatt closed his eyes, still so tired, wishing the mjestec paste would work faster, understanding his injuries must have been horrific to be in his current state of disrepair.

“I am a freaking mess.”

“That’s putting it mildly, my friend,” Ryker commented as he found his keys and unlocked the door.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

Ryker reached for Wyatt, steadied him against his body and helped him into the house.

“Denial, my man. Didn’t want to freak you out and sure as hell didn’t want to freak myself out.”

Ryker kept his arm around Wyatt’s waist as he led him into the first floor parlour.

“I still think you need to see Doc Chambers. Just to make sure everything’s good.”

Wyatt pushed Ryker away from him, wanting to stand on his own, instantly regretting it. Without his friend for support, Wyatt was forced to lean on the wall and head towards the staircase.

“I’m fine. I promise I’ll stop by the infirmary in the morning,” Wyatt turned and held his hand out, seeking Ryker’s assistance, “but right now, can you help me upstairs?”

Ryker shook his head in amusement as he helped Wyatt upstairs.

“You are one stubborn bastard. I could just go upstairs and get her, you know?” Ryker suggested as the pair slowly made their way to the fourth floor.

“So she can kill my best friend and then kill me? No way, man.”

Reaching the fourth floor landing, Wyatt leaned against the door, slid to the floor and laughed, not feeling any better, but able to enjoy a good chuckle nonetheless.

Ryker kicked the door open with his foot and at the same time, bent over to pick up Wyatt.

“Jools!” Ryker called out, “I know you’re up here so stop trying to hide and come help me.”

Ryker pulled Wyatt off the floor, looped his arm around his waist and pulled the boy into the room, only to be met by his horrified sister.

“Oh my god!” Jools grabbed Wyatt around the waist from the other side and helped Ryker lead him into the room, “what happened? Is he okay? Why is he bandaged like that? Why do I smell mjestec?!!”

Ryker ignored Jools’ rising frenzy, just wanting to get Wyatt some place he could lie down and rest, knowing the walk upstairs was the last thing his friend needed to do in his current state. While Jools continued chattering away maniacally, Ryker led his friend past Dev and laid him on a day bed nearby. He then grabbed Jools and led her back to the couch, forcing her to sit down next to him.

“I need you to calm down for two seconds.”

But Jools didn’t want to hear a word Ryker had to say and she certainly did not want to calm down.

“What happened to my brother!”

“If you would let me...”

“Why is his neck bandaged like that!”

“Jools, please. Take a second to breathe...”

“NO! I WILL NOT BREATHE!”

Jools shot off the couch, unable to stay seated another second, desperate to know what happened to Wyatt, understanding that Ryker was trying to tell her just that but incapable of calming down long enough to listen. And then, out of nowhere, she was pinned to the far wall by a deathly cold hand at her neck and forced into submission.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” Darby shook her head at Jools, a deadly look in her eyes, “why is it that you are always yellin‘ at that boy? I am only going to say this one more time to you, Jools Clayworth: do not raise your voice to Ryker in my presence evah again. So help me god, if you do, I will drain every last drop of blood from that pretty body of yours and make sure that heart of yours stops beatin’ once and for all.

“Now when I let go of you, I want you to calm down and listen to what Ryker has to say,” Darby slowly released her hold on Jools, wanting so badly to kill the girl, but loving Ryker too much to do so.

“Darby,” Ryker called to the vampire, feeling the need to remind her he was in the room.

Darby didn’t take her eyes of Jools.

“I know you’re sittin‘ over there, honey. Don’t worry that pretty head of yours. I’m not going to kill your girl just yet.”

“Darb!” Ryker laughed, although he knew he shouldn’t.

“What?” Darby asked innocently, all wide-eyed and full of wonder.

“Stop harassing her,” Ryker leaned back on the couch, suddenly exhausted, “she’s just worried about Wyatt.”

At the mention of his name, Darby released Jools and appeared at Wyatt’s side. She touched his neck, his chest and arms, all covered in voile and stinking of mjestec. His blood pumped through his body slower than usual and he wasn’t healing as quickly as he should have. She touched his lips to find them cracked and dry and when she checked his eyes, they were bloodshot and unfocused.

“Freakin’ wolves did this?” Darby bared her fangs in anger.

“A rogue wolf, Darby. Not the entire species,” Ryker corrected.

“Ryker Morrison, don’t you lecture me on what is the what. I know it was a rogue. I just can’t believe he got Wyatt so badly.”

“She,” Ryker informed Darby, “the wolf was a woman and she was insane. I killed her.”

Jools’ eyes widened upon hearing that news.

“The Sanctum directive specifically stated not to do that.”

Ryker rubbed his head, fully aware his actions would be called into question, but not really wanting to deal with that fact right now.

“I know that, Jools,” Ryker answered tiredly, “but it was kill her or let her kill Wyatt and there was no way I was letting that happen. I don’t care what Breslin says.”

“The two of y’all need to shut up and get over here,” Darby called from Wyatt’s bedside.

Dev turned at the sound of Darby’s voice, making eye contact with the vampire before turning away, not wanting to appear interested in anything having to do with Wyatt and his friends.

“Is he going to be all right?” Jools asked as she approached the bed.

“He will,” Darby replied with a pause, “if I help him.”

With that statement, the room fell silent.

“No,” Ryker stated.

“Uh-uh, not happening,” Jools shook her head, “Wyatt will be just fine.”

Darby eyed Ryker and Jools with a mixture of disgust and hurt in her eyes. They were both so quick to reject any help she could offer.

“Well, at least I know how the two of y’all feel about me. Good luck with dealing with him,” Darby waved towards Wyatt as she stepped over Dev and headed for the door.

“Wait,” Ryker called to her, making a decision without even realizing it.

“Now why would I do a thing like that, sweetheart?” Darby turned and asked.

Ryker took one glance at his best friend, lying on the bed, covered in mjestec and voile, paling with each passing minute and knew Darby was his only hope. He checked Wyatt’s eyes again, just to make sure they weren’t turning gold, not really sure why the mjestec wasn’t working. Wyatt’s pulse was slow and incredibly weak, almost as if his body was slowly shutting down. And although he knew no member of The Sanctum could have even a drop of vampire blood flowing through their veins and be considered pure, Ryker had little choice. There was no way he was going to watch his best friend die.

“Because you love him as much as I do,” Ryker retorted.

“You can’t do this, Ryker,” Jools insisted, refusing to believe Darby was her brother’s only hope.

“You have any better ideas?”

Ryker’s question lingered in the air, unanswered. He waited another moment and then turned his attention to the tiny vampire at his side. Ryker gently caressed her cheek and then tipped his head in deference before returning to the couch opposite Dev, permitting Darby to do her thing.

Paying little attention to Jools and her outrage, Darby wasted no time. She exposed her fangs, nicked her own wrist and then placed it against Wyatt’s lips. Her blood was powerful and Wyatt only needed a few drops; seconds later, Darby stepped away from the bed, confident her warrior would be fine, knowing her blood would heal whatever injuries the mjestec could not.

“Thank you,” Ryker reached for her hand as she passed him.

She paused, looking down on his sad, beautiful face, knowing he was sorry, both for not wanting her help and needing it all the same. She placed her cold hands on either side of his face, enveloping him in her chilly affection, and smiled beatifically. Then without another word, Darby quietly left the room, closing the door behind her.

“Sheesh. Does everything between you and her have to be so rife with sexual tension?” Jools asked irritatedly.

Ryker ignored Jools’ question, knowing she didn’t really mean it but was simply worried about her brother and lashing out at him instead. He could take it, and anything else she might want to throw his way, if it meant Wyatt was on the mend. Leaning back into the couch, Ryker tried to relax, figuring he had a long night ahead of him, waiting for Wyatt to take a turn for the better. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, trying to calm himself down a bit, all the while feeling as if he was being watched.

“Please, stop it.”

Ryker’s eyes remained closed, but Dev knew his request was intended for her. Indeed, she had been staring at him, studying his need to remain calm as he fought his inability to stop worrying about Wyatt. She cocked her head to the side and continued watching him, despite Ryker’s request that she stop.

“Don’t go near her,” Jools warned from Wyatt’s bedside, “she’ll try to kill you.”

Ryker could not help but laugh.

“What is it about you Clayworths that makes this girl crazy?”

"What are you talking about," Jools asked as she pulled a sheet over her brother and tucked him in before joining Ryker on the couch, all the while making certain to avoid Dev.

Amused by Jools’ wariness of Dev, Ryker also respected the fact that a girl with no legs had managed to better one of the most promising, young fighters in The Sanctum.

"She got you, too, I see."

"She did not get me," Jools lied, "I just don't like her. She's creepy, all silent and no legs."

Ryker playfully swatted at Jools.

"Behave, Clayworth. She's not deaf."

"Could have fooled me. She certainly can't speak."

Ryker watched Dev closely, wondering whether she would react to anything being said about her. Dev met his stare with a glare of her own, never losing eye contact with him, letting Ryker know he was definitely not one of her favorite people.