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That afternoon, as I sat on a cot in the clinic giving blood, the masked vampire was there, too, sitting across the room.
There were several others in the holding cell downstairs now, since Baker and the others had gone “collecting,” which was their cutesy term for hunting monsters they weren’t going to kill. But he was still the one I saw most often. I had asked Dr. Kelly about him once, and he had simply said that the vampire was the oldest in the Church’s collection, which made his blood a more powerful healing agent.
Even after everything I had seen on the hunt, I couldn't help but feel sorry for the poor soul. He had murder in his eyes, but I couldn't blame him for that, either. I wasn't sure if he looked at me with disgust because he saw me as a traitor, or simply because I was a wolf. I wasn't sure I wanted to know, either.
Maybe I was a traitor, but betraying my own kind was the least of my worries. Was it even betrayal if you were only trying to protect the people you loved?
That was a question that continued to haunt me as the days passed. They seemed to flow and vanish like rushing water, and I found myself longing for just a little more time. I looked for any excuse to linger just a little while longer.
Not that a thousand years would have been enough to diminish the sense of loss I already felt. Nonetheless, with the threat of the Order still looming, and the very real possibility that my sire's pack would uncover the truth, dread remained enough of a specter to quell my doubts.
That evening, as I walked the familiar path through the woods at Castor’s side, I had the strangest sense of finality. The sense that this was one of the last times it would be like this, just him and me, side-by-side—if notthelast. The fate that had driven us together so relentlessly seemed to have shifted course and decided to pull us apart, even if I was technically the one forcing its hand.
It was better for it to be this way. For me to leave on my own terms, rather than having to live in a world without Castor when the war out there inevitably came to the Abbey. That would truly be a hell of my own making.
"Penny for your thoughts?" Castor asked.
I looked up at him, smiling. "That much?" I teased.
He rolled his eyes. "You've been melancholic all morning. All week, really. What's going on with you?"
"Nothing. I just haven't felt great."
That in itself wasn't such a lie. I just wasn't about to admit the reason for the constant dread sitting in the pit of my stomach like a rock.
When I saw the way his expression immediately turned to concern, I knew it had been a mistake to admit that.
"What's wrong? Are you sick?"
"No," I assured him. "I'm fine. Really. I just didn't sleep very well last night."
He frowned, and I could tell he was trying to decide whether or not he believed me. But before he had the chance to decide, I heard something rustling in the woods behind us. Castor reacted at the same moment, drawing the blade at his side. I hadn't brought any weapons, considering I planned on shifting once we got to the woods, and I braced myself to do just that.
I couldn’t smell another wolf in the area, but with as much blood as I had been giving, my nose wasn't very sensitive in this form. Not even without the collar.
Any relief I might've felt that it wasn't another wolf vanished when I saw the familiar woman standing before us, wearing the uniform of the Order.
“Madaline," Castor said bitterly, brandishing his blade as he stood between us. I braced myself for the awful attack the psychic had unleashed on me the last time, but nothing came. I knew better than to let my guard down, though. She was probably just biding her time.
"I come in peace," she said, smirking. "With a message from Atticus."
"You know we have a landline, right?" Castor asked, and even though he was being his usual smartass self, I could tell he was ready to attack if she so much as made a single move toward us. That made two of us.
She scoffed. "It's a warning. The word on the street is that someone is after your pet."
Her gaze drifted over to me as she studied me with a familiar combination of disgust and curiosity.
"I wonder who could've tipped them off," Castor said, his voice dripping with irritation.
She just smiled. "The Order has no business with dogs, but we do keep our word. The truce specifies that either side must make the other aware of impending threats where possible and reasonable. What you do with that warning is up to you."
With that, she turned to walk away, but Castor and I both remained tense until long after she was out of sight.
He was still staring at the spot she had recently occupied when I asked, "What do you think that was about? You think she’s telling the truth?"
I had a bad feeling I already knew. If anything, it was just more confirmation of my decision.
He shook his head. "I don't know. But we should get back to the Abbey."
