Loyalty by Naomi M-B (books to read for 13 year olds TXT) 📕

He didn’t want to think about that.

Plan, he needed a plan. Glancing at his captors, he narrowed his eyes, taking them in. Mika was bird-boned and tiny, looking barely older than sixteen. His accent and colourings marked him as Irish through and through. Natural born druid. Hopefully, his youth meant he was still in school and therefore not fully trained. Lucinda was harder gauge. Probably early twenties with the glowing amber eyes of a half-breed or Turned. Which she was he wasn’t entirely sure. Terrin wasn’t someone he trusted and there was something in her scent…

“Stop staring,” Farah snapped at him. “You’re starting to drool.”

“Stop passing your lust off onto me,” Isaac shot back.

Oh and then there was this idiot. Like all Dusk Vampires, Farah’s skin and hair was pitch black. Anything about the age he had been when he’d died was impossible to guess beneath the thick mass of scar tissue. It covered his face and extended down his neck. Even his hands were scarred. Whatever had killed him had been vicious.

“As if I’d-” Farah was cut off as Mika suddenly sprang upright.

“Seamus needs a walk,” he declared before opening the door and stepping out. Sometime during Isaac’s thoughts, they had arrived. Farah waited until the car was safely stowed within the garage before shouldering open the door and hauling Isaac to his feet.

“Gently, gently!” Isaac yelped. “I’m delicate! You wouldn’t want to break me now, would you?”

“Can we shoot him again?” Farah demanded.

Glaring, Lucinda snapped, “No.” Without elaborating, she stalked inside, the supply box tucked under her arm.

“Who pissed in her cereal?” Isaac asked, frowning.

“No idea,” Farah grumbled. “She’s always like that… shut up.”

*

Revenge was a sweet thing. It was probably the only good thing about Farah’s new living arrangements anyway.

There were three bedrooms in their house plus a basement level. Mika and his older brother Quinn had claimed the largest bedroom while Lucinda had taken the smallest. Kyan, their unsociable warlock, had moved into the basement and rarely left. So, when the issue of where to keep Isaac came up there was really only one solution.

“No,” Farah exclaimed. “I’m not bunking with him! Lock him in the attic or in a cage at the bottom of the garden, I don’t care. Just don’t stick him with me!”

“It makes the most sense,” Daena mused. The ghost did a lot of musing, it was one of the few things the witch-ghost had been able to do in the century since she’d died. “I mean, you don’t sleep at night so you’d be perfect for keeping an eye on him.”

“You don’t sleep either!”

With a sigh, Lucinda thumped her head down on the table. “Farah, you don’t have to talk to him, you just have to make sure he doesn’t run away during the night.”

“But it’s my room!” Farah pressed.

Isaac felt the need to pipe up, “I don’t mind sleeping on the sofa.”

“Shut up,” both Farah and Lucinda snapped.

There came an exasperated sigh from the kitchen door. “It’s not even dinner and you’re already arguing.” Quinn was bigger than his little brother in both height and width. With tattoos the same luminous blue as his eyes, he was without a doubt a fully-fledged druid.

Beneath his breath, Isaac swore. Just brilliant.

“Quinn! Swap rooms with me and watch the prisoner!” Farah pleaded.

Raising an eyebrow, Quinn surveyed Isaac with his eyes for a moment. “You must be hellish if Farah’s begging.”

Eyes widening in a ‘who me?’ expression, Isaac’s mind whirled with plans. If Farah was his guard then he would just have to antagonise the irritable vampire. But if this person was then there was the advantage of the druid’s need to sleep.

“Just sort it out,” Lucinda ordered, getting to her feet. “I need to talk to Kyan.” She vanished through the basement door without another word.

“You wouldn’t be able to handle Mika,” Quinn was saying. “He chatters the whole night on, no stopping him. You’ll be wanting to strangle him after five minutes, I assure you.”

“Well I assure you that I’ll want to do more than strangle him,” Farah jabbed a finger at Isaac, “after two minutes!”

“Ditto.”

“Shut it, dog-breath,” Farah growled.

“Oh,” Isaac scoffed, “we’re doing derogatory slang now are we? Fang face?” The bickering continued, back and forth. It only ceased when Mika’s dog Seamus returned from his walk and set upon Isaac. Only then did Farah notice that both Quinn and Daena had left, Lucinda had returned and was halfway through making dinner.

“I’ll help!” Mika declared completely ignoring the massive Doberman trying to drown Isaac in slobber.

Eventually, after several glasses of alcohol tainted blood, Farah agreed to guard Isaac for a week.

So now, here he was. Slurping blood noisily through a straw and watching in delight as Isaac tried vainly to sleep. It was hard enough already, what with the handcuffs, but now it was perfectly impossible.

Yes, revenge was very sweet indeed.

Contrary to popular belief, it wasn’t just full moons that had an effect on werewolves. Every quarter moon did as well. It didn’t set their blood alight and fill their heads with moon song or mutate their bodies into those of wolves. However, it did saturate their minds and bodies with agitated nervousness.

Most dealt with it by pacing. Isaac could hear Lucinda’s soft slippered steps on the landing above. Back and forth and back and forth. Around and around again and again.

The same restless energy was thrumming through his veins. It was the energy he intended to harness for his escape plan. Annoying as Farah had been last night it hadn’t prevented Isaac from plotting his escape.

The first part had already been achieved. It had been stupidly easy actually and almost enjoyable. Mission ‘Aggravate Farah till he puts headphones on’ had been a complete success. Now, with the vampire’s sensitive hearing blocked, Isaac was free to carry out stage two.

This part was trickier. It involved counteracting the handcuffs’ runes. Carved across the cuffs were ones that bound the wearer’s power. Across the chain were ones that prevented the cuffs from being broken or releasing without a certain other rune making contact. He didn’t know what that rune was. What he did know was how to counteract the spell.

Ones on the cuff had been started the previous night, though progress had been slow as he’d had to time it with Farah’s noisy slurps of blood. Now the scratching could be continuous. A werewolf’s nails were harder and sharper than a human even un-transformed, it would have been impossible without them.

After ten minutes, he managed to finish last night’s runes. After half an hour, he completed the ones on the other cuff. Power fully restored, it took less than a minute to gouge the runes into the chain. Smirking, he paused to inspect his work. He didn’t really blame them for overlooking this. After all, runes were a warlock’s power and very few werewolves knew anything about them. Let alone the complex and convoluted relationship between them.

Cassius had been very insistent that his pack knew at least the basics.

The sudden thought of his Alpha tipped ice into his veins. Time was a wasting and he needed to get gone.

Strength and energy burned through him. With a vicious snarl, he ripped the cuffs apart, shining links spiralled through the air, tinkling to the floor. Not pausing, he leaped from the bed to the door, ripping it off its hinges.

Noise was everywhere. Lucinda was sprinting down the stairs, behind him Farah was already pelting towards him. He had seconds. But the moon was on his side. Eyes burning silver, he swung around the door frame, grabbing Lucinda as she approached. He threw her into Farah and darted beneath his claws. The pair collided with the wall, a huge crash resounding throughout the building.

By now, the others were waking. Isaac couldn’t afford to give them a second thought as he elbowed Mika in the gut. A vicious bark made Seamus freeze.

The window was before him now. White in the moon’s brightness. Glass shattered, raining down around him as he burst through.

Landing heavily, he allowed the momentum to push him forward into a roll before he stood again. “Thank you!” he called, saluting to Farah as he appeared at the window. “Your hospitality was glorious!”

Farah didn’t say anything. He just folded his arms and waited.

About five metres. That’s how far Isaac managed to get before he hit Kyan’s curse circle. Brilliant blue light exploded from the ground. It pulsed straight through Isaac’s body, energy suddenly coursing through him. It wasn’t like the moon’s, it wasn’t cool and serene and light. It was intense and agonising.

Screaming, he was thrown backwards, bones snapping as he hit the ground at force.

“You know,” Farah drawled, dropping from the window. “You really shouldn’t underestimate us.” Isaac didn’t respond, just began to shake weakly. He was crying, Farah saw. Whether it was from pain or something else, he didn’t know.

“Please,” Isaac whispered. “Just let me go home. I just want to go home.” He looked up at Farah with the terrified eyes of a child. “Please.”

“Orders,” Farah told him, suppressing the sudden surge of pity.

“Then you’ve killed me.” The werewolf closed his eyes. “You’ve killed us all."

Silence but for the tick, tick, ticking of the clock. Occasionally there came the soft rustle of sheets as Isaac shifted slightly. Or there would be the crinkle of paper when Farah or Lucinda turned a page of their magazines.

“Don’t you two have jobs?” Isaac suddenly demanded.

“We’re being forced to watch you,” Farah snapped. “So shut up and like it.”

“I suppose I am flattered,” Isaac fake mused, “that you think I can escape with a broken shoulder and fractured ankles.”

“Whose fault is that?” Farah demanded.

“Your warlock’s!”

“He’s not MY warlock!” Farah snarled, leaping to his feet. Taken aback, Isaac just stared at him, wide eyed. “He’s… uh…”

“A sore point,” Lucinda said quietly, turning her magazine upside down. “Oh, it was Canada after all,” she murmured as Farah sat down awkwardly.

Still unsettled, Isaac sank a little deeper into the pillow. Having never actually seen the reclusive Warlock it was difficult to fully understand Farah’s explosive outburst. A feud perhaps? Or maybe some other bad blood.

Quiet reigned some more until the door opened and the nurse walked in. She was a lovely half-Fae with the sweet temperament of an elf. Apparently, she was unaware of Isaac’s position as ‘Sort of Prisoner’. Which was a good thing. Though the prisoner part was becoming more and more sort of. Since his one and only attempt, he’d