130 | NEST

Fang leads me through Colton to the outskirts towards the western side of the town. We haven’t come across Hale and the Guardians-in-training since we left the Court. Still, we move silently through the miles of urban and suburban streets, always clinging to the shadows and not stopping for so much as a breath in between. By the time Fang finally slows his pace, every muscle in my body is on fire, and my lungs are itching. My canines elongated a few streets back, but I try to ignore them as we roll to a stop and I can suck in some air.

“Here,” Fang mumbles almost inaudibly, shoving a blood bag in my direction without removing his eyes from the vast emptiness around us. I grab the pouch gratefully and pop open the tube. The blood’s still cool to the touch, which should freak me out since we’re a good mile outside of Colton, but I’m too thirsty to really give a shit as I slurp down the liquid fuel. “As soon as you’re done, we’ll enter the compound.” Fang tells me a moment later, still looking off towards something I can’t quite make out in the distant tree line.

“What compound?” I mutter between sips, rushing to finish the bag now that I know we’re close to our goal. Close to the enemy.

“There’s a small house here with a large basement that connects to a cluster of underground shelters just inside that tree line.” Fang murmurs, pointing out the treeline and drawing lines with boxes at the ends. I grimace at the spider-like fanning-out passages and ‘shelters’ that I now realize must be perfect for hiding the undead. “Once we get closer, we’re going to have to act fast,” Fang continues in the same low tone that barely carries enough for me to hear. “There’s bound to be a sentry on duty, especially if the late King is among them already.”

“You said-”

“It was - *and is* - our best guess. But none of us are clairvoyant or psychic, hybrid.” Fang practically snaps at me, his eyes flashing as they narrow at me. “Not all of us have special abilities beyond that of the normal vampire.” His words cut into me, but I shrug them off and pass him the now empty blood bag.

“What’s the possibility that it’s here?” I ask after a beat of silence, my own eyes now scoping out the area nervously. I can’t feel any of the dark auras that Revenants have from here, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t one close by. There’s an awful stillness to the night that I hadn’t noticed before, an eerie calm that’s just too empty to be natural.

“Seventy-five percent.” Fang murmurs, a note of hesitation in his tone. I frown and glance at the vampire out of the corner of my eye. The Guardian is frowning, burnt-sienna eyes trained on a spot in the distance, the ember-glow of red pulsing a little brighter behind the mundane shade and turning his irises fiery.

“Is that optimistic or truthful?” I ask, keeping my eyes trained on him as his skin pales a little and the silver-and-black mix of his hair starts to shimmer. He looks completely vampiric by now, not an ounce of humanity left in his deathy-pale appearance.

“Both,” Fang murmurs back, his eyes flicking to mine, a rueful smile twisting his lips. “Don’t worry, hybrid. I’m Oath-sworn to keep you safe. You will survive this night.” I feel my frown deepen with the vehemence of his words and the slight bitter note in them. It’s the kind of thing I’ve been sheltered from, I know, being ‘sworn’ to do anything. Hale’s the one who technically holds control over me, since I’m still in his Coven, but my father’s only sparingly flexed that control over the last year.

By Fang’s tone, it seems like this kind of thing - being given orders by the Queen - isn’t new. It makes me uneasy to think that Mina, who seems fair and kind for a vampire Queen, still forces her subjects to do what she wants - even if they themselves disagree with whatever it is she’s making them do. It doesn’t fit into the image I’ve painted Mina to look like. I silently count my lucky stars that I don’t have to deal with vampiric politics and taking orders like those of the Court.

A part of me relaxes a little as the other half tenses, the Wolven in me giving up control to the other monster trapped in my bones. My senses sharpen as I focus back on the darkness in front of us. My nightvision flicks on and the night becomes mid-day. A boarded-up house practically leans to one side within the tree line. The front door is non-existent, tossed haphazardly off to one side of the overgrown thicket I suspect was once a nice garden.

But my nightvision can’t pierce through the darkness inside the shack. The rectangle that was once covered by a door yawns open before us.

“We should hurry before our scents have time to linger.” Fang mutters to me after another second of tense silence. Without pausing for my acknowledgement, the Guardian speeds off silently towards the house. I sprint after him, the quiet deafening in my head as my Guardian instincts rise to the surface and help guide my steps.

We make it to the front door, but Fang barely pauses before dashing inside the gloom. The hairs on the back of my head prickle a second before I follow, making me glance back outside for the briefest moment. Nothing. The clearing is…well, clear. Still, I get the odd feeling of being watched, even as I hurry after Fang and deeper into the utter destruction and grime within the house.

I feel like I may get tetanus after this just by looking at all the sharp, rust-covered garbage littering each room. Well, ‘room’ is being kind to the spaces. The walls are practically non-existent, barely held-together beams with hole-laden plaster. I can practically see through the whole shack the moment we enter. Still, there’s enough ‘wall’ remaining that the possibility of hiding Revenants is fairly worrying.

Fang systematically goes room to room, searching for Revenants and the way into the underground nest. We clear the entire above-ground area before finding the door to the basement. There’s no staircase to tromp down, just a long, rickety ladder that dips into the inky darkness below. My instincts balk at the sight - or there lack of. It’s getting harder to actually see, barely any light seems to penetrate the first level of the house, and even with my excellent nightvision, I can’t make out anything beyond the first few rungs of the ladder.

Fang holds up a hand when I move forward to go down the ladder. I frown at him, opening my mouth to argue, but his eyes narrow at mine and he shakes his head in warning. His expression is calm, but stony. I scowl back at him and wait for the Guardian to go first into the unknown darkness below. The longer I stare into the endless black, he more the long shadows seem to shift and shudder, making me uneasy and anxious. When Fang disappears from the little circle of light, I reluctantly follow, hoping the Revenants are down there…but also that this isn’t the trap it’s starting to feel like it is.

Little recess lights are stationed dimly around the room that makes up the basement. It’s clear here, just a space with structured walls that aren’t a complete mess like the floor above. The gentle hum of an air conditioning unit can be heard from somewhere in the darkness beyound the initial room. Fang’s poised by the dark hallway, his back to the wall and waiting patiently for me. I go over to him, wondering what he’s waiting for - but then it hits me.

Auras pulse against the periphery of mine, dark and caustic, they hum persistently. I wince, nose twitching as an assault of decay and blood reach me. I nearly stumble into the wall, but Fang reaches out a hand to my shoulder and steadies me before I go face-first into the pillar. I swallow the rising bile in my throat and concentrate of the Guardian instincts screaming in relief and excitement in my bones.

Four. Four Revenants.

I’m not sure how I know, but I suddenly do. There are four distinct auras, each of varying degrees of strength, though all much weaker than any other Revenants I’ve come across before. I frown and look at Fang in silent question, but he Guardian is looking towards the hall now, edging around the side to stalk towards our prey.

The path, though darker without the extra lighting, is straight-forward to the next part of the compound. Nothing rushes at us, nothing jumps out of the shadows to try to kill or stop us. There’s nothing but the heavy presence of decay and debilitating emptiness. Then we’re in the room where four large, gangly bodies are stretched out on the ground in a wild tangle of jutting limbs and black streaks along their ashen forms. There are a few recess lights in the corners of the room, just bright enough to allow us to see the bodies and decay surrounding the curled-up Revenants.

I’m suddenly very thankful that it’s so dim as my eyes trace over the discarded forms that smell like blood and death. Everything in me becomes numb as I stare at the now stirring mass as the Revenant begin to sense us.

Fang breaks out of the surprise first, surging forward with burning red eyes to rip into the closes Revenant. I jerk into motion a second later and allow the Guardian instincts to guide me as I tear into the barely moving forms of the Revenants. None of them make so much as a move against us as Fang and I systematically remove their hearts and limbs.

In no time at all, the Guardian and I are making trips in and out of the compound with pieces of the Revenants. I find some salt in one of the main floor’s rooms and pour it over the mound. I come back to myself as Fang drops the last armful of Revenant meat onto the pyre and strikes a match. The second the lit match drops, the whole pile erupts into blazing white flames.

“That was too easy,” Fang frowns at the mini-bonfire before us, his eyebrows knitted so tightly together I think they’re about to become one. I don’t say anything, but can’t help but agree as I watch the bones of the Revenants crack and turn to ash. Thick, white smoke soars into the sky and dissipates almost immediately as sunlight slowly creeps up over the surrounding trees.

I don’t voice my echoing thoughts, or the knowledge that the real goal: killing the King, wasn’t accomplished. If anything, I feel dirty, like I’ve just done something the King wanted me to do. Like I’ve just taken care of a problem rather than destroyed a crucial pillar of the operation. I don’t utter a syllable, but I know Fang’s thinking exactly what I am.

“I’ll take you home,” Fang tells me once the embers of the fire have finally died out. The trip back to Kiwina takes most of the day and the rest of my minimal energy. I can’t even muster up enough energy to care that I’m missing a day of school as I shower and collapse into bed.