"I'm good," he mumbled.
"Great. Hang on, we're going vertical." It was difficult, climbing a tall pine tree with a fully-grown man over my shoulder, but I did it. I hope I never have to do it again. "You think you can hold on here so I can lead them away?" Weldon had his arm wrapped around the trunk of the tree and his skin appeared a little gray as he sat there on the rough bark of a thick tree limb. His hip was still bloody although it did seem to have stopped bleeding. Haggard best described how Weldon looked as he shuddered slightly and gripped the trunk of the pine.
"I'll be fine," he murmured, staring at me with those black eyes of his. He was a handsome man, even wounded.
"Good, because I'm getting down, now. Hopefully they'll chase after me, thinking I've still got you. Stay quiet, alright?"
Weldon was about twenty feet above the ground in a huge pine and pretty well hidden. I just hoped his scent wouldn't drift to the ground. "You don't have to tell me to be quiet," he grimaced.
I climbed down quickly, landing at the spot where I'd started climbing. Scuffling around a little, I took off running again—the Wolves had almost caught up with me while I'd gotten Weldon settled in the tree. I found the river after running for nearly half an hour. Not knowing how long those Wolves could run or track me, I gambled a little more. They'd followed me without stopping at Weldon's tree, after all. I waded into the ice-coated edge of the river, hoping to make my pursuers think I'd gone into the frigid water. Standing there in the bone-freezing river, I shivered and turned my body to mist.
The point of the river where I turned to mist had to be at least ten miles from where I'd left Weldon, but as mist I can move as fast as my mind can, almost, and I was back at his tree in no time. He was still sitting there on his limb, his body covered with bites and rips, his eyes closed in pain and breathing with difficulty.
"Did you think I wouldn't come back for you?" I asked softly, materializing on the limb next to his. "And since I'll never have grandkids," I grunted as I hefted him over my shoulder again, preparing to make the descent, "you'll have to tell yours about how you got rescued from a tree by a cookie baking vampire."
Coming down with him was a lot slower than going up but I managed it, loping off toward the cabin as soon as I hit the ground. Weldon grunted painfully from his spot over my shoulder, so I apologized to him for making the trip so rough. We made it back to Emmett and Kipp about half an hour later. I was wiped and Weldon wasn't in any shape to do anything except get medical attention. "Get him in bed and clean up those wounds," I ordered the two werewolves, who stood staring at both of us as if we were a bad dream come to life. I wished I knew if Daryl were still alive, but there wasn't any way I could go and check. Unfortunately, my nightmare was only beginning.
Emmett and Kipp hauled Weldon into his bedroom and started working on him. It looked like they knew basic first aid, at least. I figured they knew better than I did what a werewolf might need, so I started to go into the bathroom and clean out my own bites. That's when I heard the howling. Somebody, I had no idea who, was heading toward the cabin and he didn't sound friendly.
I made my stand at the front door of Weldon's log house. I'd quickly piled as many thick logs from the woodpile in front of the door as I could, but that wouldn't keep attackers from going through the windows. All that stood between what was coming and the three werewolves inside the house was me. Sending up a silent prayer, I dumped my down jacket off to the side so I'd have freedom of movement, rolled up the sleeves to my sweater and watched the pack of fifteen come after me at a run.
Chapter 10
They hit me like a storm and again I was punching and breaking, tossing and fighting. There were so many bites after a while—so much of my flesh ripped away—I didn't know what was left of my body. I'd managed to take down nine of them but there were six left and they were still coming after me. I don't know how much longer I might have been able to stand and take the beating before they took me down when Daryl, Martin Walters and Thomas Williams showed up.
Daryl still had some fight left in him, thank goodness, and Martin was ripping into the enemy so viciously I knew right away how he kept his spot as Packmaster. Thomas Williams was putting everything he had into the fight; he managed to take down two of the attackers before one of the remaining wolves ripped out his throat. Martin managed to get that one while Daryl took down the last wolf.
My clothes were in shreds and my breathing shallow and labored as I slumped down before the pile of logs I'd placed in front of the door. My body felt as if acid had been poured over it and I was nearly numb from the pain.
"Dad?" That was Daryl's first word.
"Inside. Emmett and Kipp working on him," I wheezed.
Martin moved me to the side and he and Daryl removed the logs so they could get into the house. I was left sitting in front of the cabin, a bloody mess and unable to move.
* * *
"Werewolf saliva has this effect on vampires," I heard the words from a strange voice and scent. I didn't know where I was; everything looked dark to me. And the pain? My body was on fire.
"Surprised she's not dead yet," another fragment floated past. I wanted to know if Weldon was all right, but that thought, along with my consciousness, drifted away.
I woke up a little when they moved me and somebody was dripping blood from a bag into my mouth. "Go ahead and swallow," a voice urged. I wanted to cry but there wasn't anything left in my body to produce tears. I wanted to move, but my body felt paralyzed. The pain wasn't going away. I wished I was dead and then remembered that I already was.
"She's opening her eyes," someone said. My ears felt like they were stuffed with cotton, deadening the sound. I blinked, there was light, but I couldn't bring anything into focus. "Lissa? Can you hear me?" I thought it might be Daryl, but I didn't know for sure. Blackness came again.
* * *
Daryl carried Lissa up the steps to Winkler's jet. He was flying back with her and turning her over to Winkler. What was left of her, anyway. Weldon had been stiff for a few days but held the meetings as if nothing had happened, although he did cut them short by three days. Lester, Bart, and about thirty-five others had died in the attempted coup, including Thomas Williams, who'd fought and died to keep Weldon alive.
Weldon buried Thomas on his North Dakota property, and many of the werewolves carried large stones from the river to cover his grave. Weldon gave the eulogy, naming Thomas a hero. Lissa, though, she probably wasn't going to make it. At least that's what the werewolf physician said when they brought him in from Chicago. Winkler demanded that she be brought back to Texas. If she were dying then he'd see to her comfort beforehand. Weldon didn't want to move her, told Winkler that he'd see to her and he and Winkler held a shouting match over the phone. Winkler won out eventually, sending his jet to pick her up.