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With the shifters pinning Roanac down, his limbs are spread wide, and so is his chest. It’s how wolves operate. They get the animal covered in wolves and it freaks out, rears up, exposing its neck or belly, and the wolf can go in for the final kill. It means that Roanac’s scar is exposed even more, gaping, vulnerable.
And Sol, despite his lack of sight, is the one who’s been throwing his blades from a distance. He seems to have the best aim of all the vampire men, able to bring down an enemy without having to get in close.
“I need some height!” Sol shouts, racing toward Roanac.
Malcolm and Jarrett interlock their arms, creating a small platform. Sol leaps onto it, and his two brothers launch him high with their vampiric strength. At the peak of his arc, he throws his blade with all of his might.
It flies in a perfectly straight line, piercing Roanac’s scar with incredible accuracy for a man who can’t even see.
A deep, ragged scream cuts through the night, and the shifters are flung off as Roanac writhes in pain. Blood, first black, then red, gushes from him. My stomach roils and churns as he lets out another roar of rage and pain.
He’s no longer being held down, and despite the blade still protruding from his chest, he lurches toward us. He looks wild and dangerous, like a wounded animal lashing out. Fear chills my skin, but before Roanac can attack, North lets out a harsh battle cry that morphs into a new sound as it rises up into the air.
A howl.
As I watch, North’s body ripples and shifts. My heart stutters in my chest as fur sprouts and claws protrude from his hands, which turn into massive paw-like things.
He’s shifting.
He doesn’t transform all the way to a full wolf form, just like last time I saw him try to shift. But this time, instead of slipping away immediately, the new wolfish shape remains. He might not have enough control to get past this monstrous half wolf/half human form, but he’s found the power to maintain this shape.
And to be honest, this form is exactly what we need right now—something almost as powerful and brutally dangerous as Roanac is.
With another deep howl, North leaps forward, pinning Roanac down as his huge claws sink into our enemy’s skin.
He’s holding him back, giving us another chance to take him out.
Raven sees what North is doing and shifts into his gargoyle form, pushing up off the ground and spreading his wings.
“Here!” Cain throws one of his blades up for Raven to catch. “Go for the gap in his scar! Now!”
My gargoyle mate snatches the blade from the air, whips it around, and hurls it toward Roanac’s vulnerable spot as the bastard wrestles against North’s hold. It pierces his chest right next to the weapon Sol threw, two blades plunged all the way to the hilt in Roanac’s chest.
Everyone shuffles back as Roanac opens his mouth on another harsh bellow, and my stomach twists as I watch his body contort.
The monsters around us give dying shrieks of agony and pop out of existence. The shades, whose strange half-life energy comes from Roanac’s power as well, drop to the ground, crumpling like bits of soggy paper.
Roanac looks like he’s having some kind of seizure. He writhes and twitches, blood pouring from him freely. North takes advantage of Roanac’s weakened state and snaps at him with the huge, sharp teeth that fill his newly elongated snout, tearing at his flesh.
The more blood that pours out, the weaker Roanac gets, and the smaller he gets. There’s blood all over the ground now, too much for the earth to soak it up so that it runs over our feet.
Around us, the color begins to leech back into the world.
The shades turn to dust.
Roanac’s body keeps getting smaller. And smaller. And smaller. He can’t even yell in pain anymore, he just gurgles, like his blood is rising up into his throat and strangling him.
His eyes go dull and he falls still.
Dead.
It’s odd, in a way, to see him like this now after all of it but… he looks almost like a normal human again. Like he’s just a man after all.
I walk over to him. Everyone else is frozen. Sol is breathing hard, the other three around him checking on him. Raven lands next to us while the shifters all look to North.
The fae all part for me like waves as I approach Roanac and kneel beside him. I press my fingers to his neck to feel for a pulse, reach out in my mind to see if he’s still there.
There’s nothing. No pulse of blood or of thought. I stand up, and I swear I can feel everyone around me holding their breath as they wait for me to speak.
