Davina (The Immortal Prophecy 3)

“No, Lucas.”

“Don’t. Please.”

The last was a whimper from Pippa, Davy’s friend. Roane’s stomach clenched, but he moved out of Christian’s reach. Lowering his voice, he said, “I’m going to her. Someone has to try to contain her.”

“Contain that?” Christian’s statement was a whip, lashing at him.

“Yes.” She was too powerful to allow on her own, and he had no idea if he could control her. He could try, at least. He had to try. “None of ours can get hurt.”

“One of ours already did.” Pippa was glaring at Davy’s body. Her own growl began to build in the back of her throat.

Roane started forward again, but he said as a goodbye, “I’ll ask her to leave The Mother Wolf for you, but return home after that.”

“Lucas—”

“I mean it!” He glared at them before turning away once again. “Leave. Go home.” “Go and be alive . . .” he thought before crossing the distance until the next ridge.

The Immortal was waiting. She had heard his thought and she asked now, in his head still, “Is that what you think will happen? You will die.”

He faltered just beneath the hill she stood upon. He held her gaze, never wavering. “Either my body will die or my soul will. Either way, all is lost.”

“Nothing is lost. It’s just a new life. That is all.”

Everything was lost, but he held back those words. She heard them, a darkness flashing in her eyes, but both let it go. He gestured to The Mother Wolf. “My friend has come this entire way to kill her.”

He remembered the stories spoken about The Mother Wolf.

“The Alpha went to The Mother Wolf . . .” Pippa said.

The Mother Wolf knew about Davy . . . she was connected to The Immortal.

He remembered when he first saw her. There, in the middle of five Goliath-sized wolves and four Romah guards in full armor, was a woman.

He knew who she was.

This was The Mother Wolf, the one that Christian told him about. She was stunning. Black hair fell free and loose past her shoulders. She wore a blue and silver robe. The colors were striking, matching the air of strength she was emanating. Her eyes were dark. Her lips were bright red, curved into a half smile, and her head was raised in a confident and authoritative manner, but that wasn’t all that clung to her—magic.

She had been so powerful then. And now, her arms hung limply, her head fell back as if she were a doll, and her eyes were dull. They were almost lifeless. The Immortal had done this. It was a shock.

She was nothing now. She was weak.

The enormity of The Immortal’s power shouldn’t have surprised him, but it did. And with each action that showed even more power, a part of his hope died inside of him. Swallowing painfully, he asked, “Why did you go after her?”

“She has his magic.” The Immortal peered at The Mother Wolf again. “It’s inside of her. He planted it in her and I need to follow it to where he is. He must

die. He is the only one who could be troublesome to me.”

Roane continued to feel his insides spilling out over him. “You mean he’s the only one who could match your power.”

“No.” She snapped back to attention. “Never. He is no match. He is beneath me. It’s why he is hiding. All his magic, it’s everywhere. It’s in the wolves. It’s in his vampires. It’s in the ground . . .” A light gleamed in her eyes. “The ground. He’s underground.” She focused on Mother Wolf and placed her hand between the woman’s breasts. The Immortal leaned closer, peering where her hand was and she began to say under her breath, “You are in her. I can feel your magic. There is a path. I . . . must . . . follow where it goes . . .” And, at the last word spoken, the air shifted.

Roane could feel a heaviness, as if something was poured into the atmosphere around them. Then, The Immortal uttered one word, “Ignite,” and an explosion happened. He covered his eyes. The light was blinding, but when he looked back, Mother Wolf was hanging in the air. The Immortal had suspended her there and a light shone from inside of her. A string, or a line, moved out from Mother Wolf’s body and he turned, tracing it all the way down the hill they stood on, through the valley of the second battle, and past where Christian and Pippa stood.

The Immortal came down to stand beside him. She was watching the trail. “It goes back to the water. He is back there.”

She started forward.

A surrealness had come over everyone. There were few of the Benshire werewolves alive, but those who still survived ceased fighting Christian’s pack. As The Immortal walked past them, they moved apart. An opening cleared for her and she left, either unmoved or indifferent to the fear that everyone had for her.