Elijah
Elijah’s mouth tasted metallic. He’d been in enough fights to know what that meant.
It meant that he really, really did not want to wake up. He tried to force himself back into the comfortable darkness that clung to his head like mildew, but the harder he held on the further it slipped away. With a deep, gravelly groan, he peeled his eyes open.
The sun hung heavy in the sky, a fat, guileless orb watching over everything with the distance that came with a lack of emotion. Grass tickled Elijah’s nostrils. He snorted it out and sat up, wrinkling his nose at the bolt of pain lacing his ribcage. The world shifted and swayed, but he could make out nothing of interest anyway. Empty fields rolled away from him in all directions, lit too brightly by the noonday sun.
It had been night beyond the veil. How long had he been unconscious?
But with the sudden flare of vision came the resurgence of memories. Lily. Lily was here. Lily needed him.
He grabbed the memory of her, of where she was – and of where he was – and held it tight to his chest. He spat away the blood coating his tongue and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He had to find Lily.
His temple throbbed. He poked at it and winced. Then came the next swell of memories: Atticus, and his betrayal. Elijah couldn’t say that he was surprised, but he was disappointed. He’d hoped Atticus would have actually been at least somewhat useful before he’d turned on him.
Ignoring the surging in his stomach and the pounding in his head, Elijah climbed unsteadily to his feet. He patted his back, feeling for his sword – only for his gut to plummet when he realised that Atticus had taken that, too. With the full moon out of sync in this strange dimension, it was a wise move – would they be able to shift here when the time came? It had only been a day away what felt like an eternity ago – but it was a move that Elijah hated him for. With the Red Ripper wolves able to shift at will, the sword had been his only lifeline.
“Well,” he muttered to himself, careful to speak beneath his breath, “I’ll just have to make do.”
Speaking aloud made him feel better. He took his first trembling step. Grass slipped beneath his boot soles. He tripped and stumbled his way towards the sun, though he had no idea if that was the right way. One thought pushed him onwards: Lily. He had to get to Lily.
He had to get to Lily before Atticus did.
But he had no idea where she was. He paused, sucking in deep breaths around the pain flaring in his ribs. If it still hurt after he’d been unconscious, Atticus had to have taken all of his anger out on his oblivious body. Curious, he lifted the hem of his shirt.
His torso was painted black and blue. Elijah hissed through clenched teeth and dropped his shirt. It would heal – hopefully before he came across any Red Ripper werewolves.
As he had done in the pine forest, with Ithia’s words ringing in his head – “The bond allowed you to find her once before” – Elijah pushed hard against his heart, searching for the second heartbeat that had settled into his body so seamlessly that it remained there without conscious thought. Its gentle pulse, quieter, now, than it had once been, called him home.
He had been walking in the right direction. Without realising, the mate bond between them had pulled taut – a tether reeling him in. Elijah smiled to himself. It was a tiny win compared to the grand losses he had suffered, but it was something. He had to make it count.
As he walked his wounds began to heal. Every step hurt a little less than the one before. By the time Elijah had reached a low hedge, he was able to leap over it with barely more than a wince.
After that, he ran.
He embraced the racing of her heart. He knew not what he would find when he reached her; her heartbeat assured him that there was as yet life in her veins. It was fast, worried – but stable.
He just hoped Atticus had not already reached her. Would she go with him? Elijah saw the scorn in her brown-gold eyes as clearly as he had that fateful day in the kitchen. He heard her voice, barely her own, so twisted by disgust as it had been: “What are you?”
He slowed his sprint to a jog so that he could tuck his hair firmly over the tips of his ears. Not that it mattered anymore. Lily knew, and she had run – just like Leahne had –
No. He gripped her garnet ring. Lily had been taken. She would not have come here by choice.
In the middle distance houses rose above the horizon. Shoving aside his doubts and his fears, Elijah pushed himself back into a sprint.
His head pounded. His muscles pulled and ached.
He had to get to Lily first. Because, even though Elijah did not think Lily would go with Atticus by choice, she might if it was her only means of escape. He could not condemn her for it – she might even end up forced into it if he wasn’t quick enough, if he was not already too late – simply because it was the smart thing to do. She had more chance of escaping Blood Moon than Red Ripper, and if Atticus bought her freedom then, twisted as it felt, as it was, Elijah would rather she went with him than remained here, waiting for a saviour that she did not know was coming.
Fire prickled in his veins.
His panic over Lily’s safety had squashed down his hatred of Atticus. He was a man without morality, without conscience. And if he took Lily, even if it saved her, Elijah would forever hate himself just as much as he despised Atticus.
He had been too trusting. Again.
Elijah curled his hands into fists. Heat scorched his palms. He was not entirely powerless without his sword – though he had never used his fire in combat. It had been a secret shared in whispers, a fear that haunted him in the lonely hours after dusk had faded to darkness. For Lily, he would reveal his true nature. For Lily, he would burn the entire world.
He vowed to make this right. No matter what it took, he would save her.
Even if it meant giving up the secrets he had kept all his life.