Luna of Rogues - Chapter 17: Chapter 17

The river had burst its banks. I could see the water snaking towards me, like tendrils. And trapped as I was, in a little gully, I saw no reason why I wouldn't be drowned by it. In times of flooding, the overflow could get deep. Certainly deep enough to swallow up a fallen tree and its prisoner.
With a bitter laugh, I realised what a smartass I was. I had predicted both of these disasters when we were pitching the tents and somehow failed to follow my own advice.
Another part of the river bank crumbled away. More water flooded through the gap, adding to the growing swamp. It inched closer, gradually building up. If I waited a few minutes more, it would soak my toes. Half an hour and I'd be up to my eyeballs.
So freeing myself was a good idea. Trouble was, it took effort. After scratching hopelessly at the dirt with all my remaining strength, I only succeeded in creating enough space to wriggle my leg, which only made it hurt more. But I did get a good look at the damage, and what I did see was almost enough to make me pass out.
The bone was broken in several places. It was also visible — not great. My leg below the knees was crushed and mangled horrifically. I suspected I wouldn't escape this encounter without a scar, even once my wolf healing kicked in.
And the whole thing was bleeding an awful lot. I was sat in an ever-growing puddle of blood, and I felt a little sleepier with every drop I lost. My vision was blurred and the blood pounding in my ears made it difficult to hear. Exhaustion and shock swept over me in dizzying waves. I decided, quite sensibly, that I was dying.
That was how Leo found me later, slumped on the ground and bleeding out. I would have gone to sleep a long time ago, had I not known that I wouldn't ever wake again. So I had fought the darkness, no matter how tempting it got to submit.
"Skye," I vaguely remember him saying. He looked twice as horrified as Rhys had been. But like my brother, he was sensible enough not to panic. "I need to get you out."
I nodded. At least — I was trying to. I have no idea if it actually happened or not.
"It's going to hurt," Leo warned me.
It couldn't possibly hurt more than it did already, so I tried to nod again.
In my deliria, I had failed to notice how far the floodwater had advanced. It covered my free leg, numbing it with cold. Leo had to kneel in that same floodwater to begin digging. He didn't have time to remove much earth, and the whole situation descended into a tug of war.
But eventually, my leg scraped free, taking off even more skin as it did. I had been right— my pain receptors were already in overdrive, and I didn't feel it. Leo pulled me a safe distance up the slope, where the overspill wouldn't reach for hours.
He could then see the extent of the injury, and he swore. My deathly pale face and the redness of the puddle below must have given him a hint, but it was quite another thing to see it for himself.
I was fading further from consciousness, and barely registered when he shouted for someone. The name sounded oddly familiar. Oreo ... owl ... olive? Something like that.
"Skye. Skye!" Leo was saying. I did my best to keep my eyes focused on him. "Listen, you've lost a lot of blood. You'll need a transfusion to be able to heal yourself."
A slightly more aware part of my brain processed the word transfusion. Wasn't that for people who were really hurt? I would be completely fine once I had a little nap...
"Don't you dare," Leo growled at me. "If you don't stay awake, you're as good as dead. You want to be murdered by a tree, huh?"
When I frowned, he continued, "No, I didn't think so!"
Some part of me wanted to ... laugh at that. And that was his intention, I think. To keep me focused in any way necessary.
Leo ripped a long strip of fabric from his shirt and tied it around my leg, just above the mangled part. It was being tightened, twisted into a tourniquet, as I watched. That seemed like a good idea. Stop the bleeding, at whatever cost. Even if I lost my leg, I would be alive, right?
"That's good. Just keep looking at me. You know you want to. All this lovely eye-candy, exclusively for you. One time only."
Even my sense of humour was drifting off. I tried to stay awake, I honestly did. I was fighting with everything ounce of strength I had, which was dwindling fast. My eyelids were getting unbearably heavy, and I felt my pupils slide out of focus.
"Damn it. Ollie, hurry up!" The shout startled me to awareness long enough for my second-in-command to arrive with an emergency blood transfusion kit. Oooh. I didn't even know we owned those. Cool.
"Oh, shit—" Ollie began as he stared open-mouthed at my leg. "That fall on you?"
He motioned towards the tree, but I was far too weak to even attempt a sassy remark. Leo glared at him, and Ollie hastened to open the transfusion kit.
"What blood type is she?" he asked as he inserted a cannula into one of my veins. I watched the needle go in, but I felt nothing. Adrenaline really is a life-saver.
"No idea, and she's not in any shape to tell us. Just use mine. I'm universal, so it'll be fine." Leo held out an arm for his own cannula.
In less than a minute, the transfusion was underway. I watched blearily as the red liquid travelled from Leo's arm into mine. With the additional blood, the healing process finally kicked in. My skin itched and crawled as it bridged the gashes. It would take far longer for the internal damage to heal though, so I didn't fancy my chances of walking anywhere.
"Hey, guys." I looked them straight in the eyes. "Thank you."
Leo snorted and Ollie smiled
"How did you find me?" I asked.
"Rhys mind-linked. Said you needed help in the north woods," Leo explained.
"Same," Ollie agreed. "Except Leo sent me back for the transfusion kit before I got here. Where is Rhys? It's not like him to run off while you're ... well, dying."
"He led them away," I admitted quietly. He hadn't come back for me though, and I knew what that meant. Dead or imprisoned, and I didn't like the sound of either. Then to take my mind off that, I asked, "What's going on at the castle?"
"After the disaster with the reinforcements, Bran won easily. The castle fell, but most of the survivors barricaded themselves in the cellar. There's a standoff still going on." Leo sighed. I felt his chest go up and down, and for the first time I realised that I was lying half on his lap. Huh. When did that happen?
Ollie picked up where he left off. "He's scouring the woods now, probably looking for you. We should get back to camp. This whole place stinks so much of your blood, that I'm surprised they aren't here already."
And with that, he did the sensible thing and bent down to pick me up.
Maybe you remember, or maybe you don't, but I have a thing about being carried.
"I'll walk, thanks," I said hastily. I would feel worse about attacking Ollie for his ignorance than Rhys for his stubbornness. The obvious solution — admitting my phobia, sounded incredibly unappealing.
Ollie backed off at that command, but Leo looked incredulous. "Yeah ... no. You can't even stand."
I used him for support to pull myself onto my feet (well, actually, my foot). When I kept all my weight off my crushed leg, the pain was bearable. And when I say 'bearable', I mean I wasn't about to pass out. Hopping several miles would take a while, though...
"This is ridiculous," Leo muttered. Then he marched forwards, scooped me into his arms effortlessly, and walked several paces to place me at the foot of a tree where I could sit up. I only even tried to hit him twice.
"How does this solve anything?" I asked. "I can walk, I promise."
"We're going to make you a stretcher." He grinned at me. I watched as he snapped smaller branches from the main trunk of my archenemy. When he had two sturdy poles the same height as me, he took off his jacket and zipped it up around them. Ollie followed his example, and we soon had a makeshift stretcher. I had to applaud their resourcefulness.
Despite my protestations, Leo lifted me onto that as well. Then he and Ollie each took an end, lifted the poles, and began the long walk back. I must have drifted off halfway, from a combination of stress and exhaustion, because the next thing I remember is waking up in the shadow of the castle.
"Where's Leo?" That was my first question for some reason.
Ollie was sprawled out by my stretcher, still drying off from the downpour. But despite resembling a wet dog, he smiled to see that I was awake. "He's gone to get some rope from the camp. Said he'll be a while — answering questions and so on. We've been gone hours. That takes quite some explaining."
I raised my eyebrows at the word 'rope,' and Ollie elaborated, "We're going to climb over the wall and slip into the cellar with the others."
"And how is trapping ourselves with everyone else going to help?" I still hardly had the energy to speak, but I was getting stronger by the second. Stringing those ten words together took less effort than I expected.
"It won't, really. But we don't have anywhere else to go, and you need to sleep properly." Ollie sounded about as desperate as I felt. "At least we'll all die together."
Not all of us, I thought, thinking of Rhodric and Rhys, who may both be dead already.
Ollie didn't need to see my misery, though — he had more than enough of his own. So I shrugged and slumped back against the stretcher. My head was on Leo's jacket, and the scent was strangely reassuring. Perhaps because he was one of the only friends I had at the moment. There could no longer be any doubts about his loyalty. Brandon had won, and there was no longer any need for a double agent. He would have turned us in by now.
While Leo didn't manage to reappear in person, a coil of rope was tossed over the wall after an hour of tedious waiting. I drifted in and out of awareness for most of it. Ollie immediately tied one end around his waist and began the difficult job of climbing the wall without any security. For obvious reasons, the main entrance wasn't an option, and the tunnel was probably being watched. So we were reduced to this.
I watched anxiously as he scaled the stones. On a few occasions, a foothold would crumble under his weight and he would be left hanging by his hands. But he always managed to cling on and keep going. To my relief.
Ollie reached the top. He lay down on the wall, keeping low so he wouldn't be spotted. And although he disappeared from my sightline entirely, the rope was tossed down for me next. It seemed a bit much to tie it to the stretcher and expect him to haul me up, so I eased to my feet and limped to the rope, stepping heavily on my right leg to keep the useless one off the ground.
Climbing up the wall was slow, painful and exhausting. Twice I missed my footing because the muscles hadn't completely healed yet, and fell a metre or so before the rope around my waist jerked me to a halt.
Ollie was waiting with outstretched arms and pulled me up as soon as he could reach. I lay there on the damp stones, trembling and recovering my strength for a good while. The other side of this particular part of the wall was sloped, so we just clambered down when no one was looking. We found ourselves in a corridor, deserted, and adjourning our destination.
I was ready to run (or limp at a reasonable speed) to the cellar, when Ollie grabbed my arm, yanked me back into an alcove and put a finger to his lips. I listened closely and heard raised voices from the command rooms.
Please don't take a whiff. Please. Our scents could so easily give us away. Especially as I stank of blood. Sometimes I wished there was a way to turn them off. Like, boom — now I smell. Boom — now I don't.
"Is that pesky female one of the bodies lying in the forest? No. Has she barricaded herself in the cellar with all the others? No. Then she's still out there, isn't she? Go find her." The voice belonged to Brandon, and he was angrier than I'd ever seen (well, heard) him.
A chill went through me when I realised exactly whom he was talking about. My heart jumped as Leo's voice replied, "With all due respect, Bran, we've already searched the woods. Twice. The rain washed away her scent trail. She could be anywhere by now."
"No, she couldn't be. Do I have to spell this out for you? My men saw Rhys leave the ambush site with her. Later, they found him alone and running a wild goose chase. He wouldn't be doing that unless she was injured and vulnerable. I know my brother. I know how he thinks." Brandon was, if possible, even more agitated than before.
So his men had found Rhys. The question was, had they caught him? A second, more painful one occurred. Had they already killed him?
Brandon wasn't quite finished. "Besides, you wouldn't need a scent trail to find her."
What the hell did he mean by that? What could Leo do that any other wolf couldn't? Couldn't he be a little less cryptic? Maybe reiterate obvious facts for the benefit of eavesdroppers, like in the movies. Was that too much to ask?
"I told you — I tried. She's too far away," Leo insisted quietly. He must be talking about mind-linking, I guessed. Maybe Leo was good at mind-linking like Fion and could tell where people were just by brushing their mind.
He scoffed. "You think I believe that? Stop trying to protect her. I already promised that I won't kill her — what more do you want? I just need her safely behind bars where she can't cause any more trouble."
"She can't cause any more trouble in front of the bars either. The rogues won't follow her again." This part didn't sound sincere, for some reason. "Give them time, and they'll realise that you're the better option."
"Don't try to spare my feelings," Brandon snapped. "We both know that's not going to happen. Dad's rogues hate me, don't they?"
"Just your guts," Leo muttered. I heard muffled sounds of Brandon slamming him into a wall, and flinched. Their voices were getting so faint that I couldn't hear the reply. They must have been walking towards the dining hall.
Hmm ... food. I was hungry.
Not now, Skye. Concentrate. Think it through. Quite a few things in that conversation puzzled me. Why would Brandon promise Leo not to hurt me? Was it connected to why I had been released in the first place? I just couldn't see the bigger picture. Piecing together all the clues since that day in the cave could only have been done on a full stomach, without an immediate risk to the people I loved. So, it had to wait.
Meanwhile, Ollie had grabbed the chance to get to the cellar. He was halfway there before I even realised he had moved. I slowly followed him down the staircase, again favouring my right leg.
When we reached the oak door, it was unsurprisingly locked and bolted. I rapped on the door several times, and the murmur of voices from within died down instantly.
"Password?" a voice asked hesitantly. I didn't recognise it through the door, but it was full of fear.
"Last Haven," I answered dramatically, having actually managed to remember it for once. It was only while saying the words out loud that I realised the irony. This was the last place we could run to — our last haven. But at the moment, it wasn't all that safe.
My response sparked an argument on the other side of the door. It was between two twins whom I knew by sight. They were called Kevin and Kyle, but I had no idea which way around. And it wasn't the voices I recognised, it was the stubborn stupidity.
"That's it. You gotta open the door now."
"How do we know they haven't tortured it out of one of our people yet?"
"Brandon's not smart enough to do that."
"And you know Brandon, do you?"
"Well ... no, not personally."
As the argument showed no signs of reaching a quick resolution, I resort to less official tactics. There was only one way to determine that I was who I said I was, and not someone else pretending to be who I said I was ... if that makes any sense.
"Walnuts," I shouted bluntly over the confusion. The room fell silent again.
"Open the door," I heard Fion say with an authority I had no idea she possessed.
"But—"
"I told you—"
"Open it," she repeated. "Don't make me ask a third time."
The door swung open to reveal a room crammed full of people. All of them staring at me. Pale, worn-out and miserable faces, suddenly gained a glimmer of hope. I did that. It never ceased to amaze me, how other people could have more faith in me than I had in myself.
It should have made me proud, perhaps restored my self-esteem. But I was only terrified that I would fail them again. An awful lot more had survived than I guessed, as the first cellar was packed like sardines and there were three in total. Great. Extra lives to ruin.
Fion full-on charged at me to claim her hug. "Damn it, Skye. I thought you were dead!"
"So did I at one point," I replied, managing to raise a dark smile.
"Would a mind-link have been too much trouble?" she reprimanded.
"With the day I've had? Yes."
"Alright, alright. You successfully played the 'I nearly died' card. Please return it to the pile now. One application only."
"Really?" I frowned. "You've never stopped playing yours. That time I talked you into tombstoning?"
She shoved me lightly. "Yeah, but that was your fault. You didn't mention the lake was only waist-deep. Even Rhodric told you off for that."
"Told off? He said — and I quote: 'I'll ground you. Just not in the way you grounded Fion, because that's not legal. Wouldn't want another visit from social services, would we?' Then he laughed at his own joke. It was like watching a train wreck."
Fion bristled. "But you were punished."
"Oh, no. He'd forgotten about it by the next day. Rhys and I went tombstoning all over again, just in the deep end." I expected a minor tantrum after that comment, but all I got was a brief silence.
"Rhys," she repeated slowly, as if suddenly remembering him. Her eyes widened. "You were with Rhys, weren't you? Where is he?"
When she asked that, it was layered with a concern beyond friendship. Oh, Goddess. Not her too. Had I completely missed that the two of them were crushing on each other all these years? Probably since the day they met. While I had been thoroughly convincing everyone that we were all related.
"I honestly don't know, Fion. We got ... separated," I replied, making sure to sound hopeful. Rhys had a tendency to defy the odds, and I thought that if Brandon had killed him, he would have started boasting by now.
"Oh," was all she said. "I'll check the mind-link."
A second later she blinked away unshed tears. "Nothing. So he's unconscious, blocking me, or..."
She didn't need to finish the sentence. And she didn't want to.
"Did you say Rhys is missing?" Maggie demanded roughly. We had completely failed to notice that the whole room was listening in.
I nodded.
"Jessica's Rhys?"
I nodded again, vaguely recognising his mother's name, and wondering why that was so important to her. She knew exactly who we were talking about, so why...?
"Then it's simple. We kill that lecherous blood traitor" —at this point, I was sorely tempted to remind her that Brandon was Jessica's son as well— "and then we find Rhys."
There was a glint of pure anger in Maggie's eyes — something I had never seen from her before, and she brandished a kitchen knife with unnerving familiarity.
"Speaking of Brandon — he had a hundred men in the woods. Anyone know where they came from? And why they would fight for such a dipshit?" I asked.
Ollie spoke up, "Yeah, actually. Leo was telling me about that while you were sleeping. They're called ferals, because they've lost their humanity. Bloodthirsty and half-mad, although nobody knows why. Some people think they're tortured to insanity, or born that way, or created by humans to destroy their own species. Whatever the reason, it turns them into animals."
That was met with a forlorn silence. How could we fight people with nothing left to lose? Then it struck me — we didn't have to.
"Don't you think enough people have died over this, Skye? We should surrender to Brandon and follow his rules. He wasn't that bad." Sophie was sat in a corner, red-eyed and utterly empty. She would never be quite the same again, not without Davies. "Your plans haven't exactly worked out so far. My mate died following your orders. And after what happened in the woods..."
That turned out to be the limit for me, after two days of strain and unwanted responsibility. My wolf tore free of my control and ran rampage with emotions, magnifying them beyond tolerance. My inhibitions were ripped to shreds.
"I didn't ask for this," I snapped. "I didn't ask to be in charge. I didn't ask you to follow me. And I certainly didn't ask to watch my friends die and my family fall apart. But I am doing the best I can. If you think Brandon can do better, run along to him. Just don't forget who really killed your mate."
My voice broke on the last sentence. Sophie, who had remained defiant to my anger, bowed her head at the sorrow. Odd, how pain can bring people to heel when fury fails.
"Look, I'm sorry about Davies. I really am. But Brandon needs to die. None of us are safe while he lives." Several people around the room started voicing their agreement, giving me the courage to continue. "I'll ask now. Can I try this one last time?"
Fion grinned. "Why do you even have to ask?"
Ollie nodded in assent without hesitation, as did Maggie. Eventually, everyone around them joined in. When was I standing in a room of bobbing heads, I wondered if Rhodric's faith in me hadn't been misplaced after all.
Sophie stared at me for a very long time. What she was looking for, I have no idea. But I held her gaze, and after a while, she seemed to find it.
"Okay then," Sophie agreed quietly.