Mark had two of the dead things in his hands, calling on all the strength from both sides of him as he ripped their heads from their shoulders. The lawn was a whirlwind of movement, but their efforts, even as they dispatched their enemy with efficient precision, proved futile, the longer the witch continued her chant.
For every dead Made-Vampire they killed, two more rose from the dead, and they seemed to grow in strength with each resurrection. The current one in his hand was proving harder to kill, but Mark wouldn’t let anything stand in the way of everything he wanted, and everything now included a life with Caster.
Several rounds of killing the undying zapped at his strength, and he stopped with the latest one in his grip. He glanced at Caster, who dispatched two more with quick, sharp movements. He should transform, but Dean’s presence in his mind still held his animal at bay. The witch’s army did nothing to fight back. It seemed all they could do was die and come back, and even in the midst of a thrill only a quick kill could provide, he was thankful they lacked bite.
“That’s enough!” Riley’s shout rose above the battle, above the witch’s chant to fill the space with his power before Caster pulled him out of its path. Energy singed the hairs on his arm as he stepped away with seconds to spare, Riley’s attack landing with a satisfying blast against the witch’s barrier.
The impact pushed her out of its confines, within reach of his vengeance, but she was too quick. She held out her hand, her dark power meeting the second blast of energy from Riley with the tremendous clap of thunder, the shockwave it generated pushing Mark off balance. Her darkness blanketing the normal night grew thicker, obscuring stars.
She turned to him with the menace of evil in her annoyed expression and hurled the next ball of darkness his way. Caster was a blur of movement before he could even react, his immense speed reducing the moment to a slowed-down theatre of events as he pushed him out of the way. In the second it took for normal speed to return, he was falling into Dean’s chest, and Caster was on his knees.
He glanced at the witch, ready to exact his revenge, his wolf defying his brother’s will as he transformed faster than he ever had, and leaped at her. But the witch dissolved into nothingness, and he missed his mark.
He was back in human form in time to meet Caster’s eyes as the witch’s magic took hold. Caster fell face-first into the death-stained ground, and his heart shattered back into the individual pieces held together by duct tape before he’d met Caster. Only now, even the duct tape was gone.
She’d won again. She’d torn his life in two for a second time, and this time, his grief outweighed his ability to endure. Last time, he’d had vengeance to hold on to. Now, it seemed even ripping the witch to shreds wouldn’t be enough. He couldn’t lose Caster. Not now. Not when they’d barely begun.
He was aware of bodies bumping into him, of movement and voices, but his world had shrunk down to the depths of his pain, a ringing in his ears drowning out reality. His vision blurred with tears, and he started to fall to his knees, needing to touch Caster’s skin one last time, only to be thwarted by a wall of muscle pulling him back. The cage of biceps holding him awayfrom the only person he wanted was familiar, and he should struggle against it, but his strength drained from his body with every chant of Caster’s name echoing in his mind, every breath.
His blurred vision recognized the image of Damien as he lifted Caster into his arms and walked toward the house, but the cage holding him in place and his own weakness prevented him from doing anything about it.
“He’s OK.” It was a whisper in his ear, the words penetrating the haze that was his mind, but unbelievable.
“He’s not dead.” Dean turned him, and he offered little resistance. He wanted to follow Caster, but his body wouldn’t cooperate. Dean’s hands moved to his shoulders, shaking him with a desperation that wouldn’t match his own. “Do you hear me? He’s not dead.”
He shut his eyes against the new barrage of pain he was powerless to stop as Dean’s Alpha invaded the space in his mind. His wolf howled their shared pain, but in the second it took his brother to move past the psychic barrier keeping it in check, it fell silent, giving in to the darkness that had once been its domain. It was gone. Again.
He stared at his brother, the concern on his face pulling him out of his grief for a moment.
“Riley says he’s not dead. He’s trapped.”
The tiniest hint of relief colored the intensity of the grief, but all he could do was stare at his brother, tears stinging.
Dean shook him harder. “Hey.” His large hands cradled Mark’s cheeks. “Please don’t do this to me. Not again.”
“I can’t…” His voice echoed in the dark void of the griefintent on swallowing him whole. “I can’t…”
“He’s fine. Riley said he’ll be OK. He’s going to need you.”
Dean’s emphasis on the last of his words brought him back from the brink, and a brilliant light of hope flickered in the vast void.
Dean nodded. “Don’t let her take him from you, do you hear me?”
His vision cleared, his brother’s demand that he take charge infusing his limp body with renewed energy. He nodded, and his brother released his face, the tears he couldn’t hold back cooling his skin.
His environment, the stench of the army Ethel had left behind in her haste to escape his vengeance, infected the once lush lawn. His brother’s influence reached past the barrier his animal had retreated to, and there was an inkling of the healing elixir that signaled his presence.
He held his brother’s gaze and nodded his gratitude. The possibility of losing Caster had sent the wolf crawling back into its hiding place, but his brother’s demand, his determination, was the dose of courage he needed to fight back. Movement over Dean’s shoulder caught his eye, and he focused his gaze to see his younger brother, subdued, almost as if he feared Mark’s reaction if he approached.
Mark shook out of Dean’s persistent hold and went to Mikey, engulfing him in an embrace, taking and giving comfort in equal measure. Two things were different from the last time the witch had torn his heart to shreds; this time, he had his brothers with him, and he was aware of his strength. Last time, he thought she’d been there to kill him. Now he knew he had somethingshe was desperate to have. That meant she would come to him again, and he’d be ready.
He released his younger brother and took a breath. The house and Caster seemed so far away.
Dean’s comforting arm went around his shoulders, drawing him to his side. “We’re here.”
It was in this assurance, in this renewed strength, that he took the first step towards what would either shatter him or give him the strength to endure. The distant war cry for vengeance, the same one he had heard a decade ago, the one that had kept him alive, paled in comparison to the hope he held on to. Caster had to be alive. His world made little sense without him.
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