Magic flared through the room. It flirted with that spark deep inside of her, the one that never went out. It felt comforting and refreshing. It felt right.
Almost immediately, however, the spark turned to heat. Her fear rose as the heat turned into a molten gush of magic, then a torrent. She tried to temper the flow. To float on top of it instead of being sucked under, but she didn’t have any resources left.
“Point me at the enemy,” she said, her voice wispy. “If I lose myself, just point me at the enemy and back—”
A cool breeze, foreign to the stuffy hotel room, danced across her face. The smell of mud and horses tickled her nose. Light flared from above and the hotel ceiling peeled away into the strange orange sky she remembered from the Realm.
“What’s…happening?” Her voice echoed in her ears. Sleek mail covered her body, decorated with intricate scrolls and designs like the blade of her sword.
“Charity?”
Devon’s voice drifted on the breeze. His large black wolf form waited beside her, his hackles raised and his teeth bared. He shouldn’t be able to call her name like that when he was in wolf form. To the other side of Devon waited an equally large gray wolf, a growl deep in its throat. Without seeing its dual-colored eyes, she knew it was Roger.
“That doesn’t make sense…” Her voice still didn’t sound quite right. Something told her it didn’t belong in the moment she was witnessing—the words didn’t fit. “He isn’t here right now.”
“Charity!”
Mud and grass stretched out in front of her, and a voice in the back of her mind whispered, “This is a field of battle.”
She heard Devon say, “Hurry, everyone change. Change! Yasmine and Rod, as soon as we clear the door, get moving. She’s not in control.”
But she was. Charity was in control, just not exactly in the present. She felt so damn good. So light and carefree. The blood song called to her, winding through the air. Pulling her home.
Across the battlefield, she saw the perfect face of Vlad smiling at her sadly. She’d picked the wrong side, and he’d be loath to kill her, she knew. Beside him stood a man with black, slicked-back hair and a face made by angels. He wore formfitting jeans and a crisp white button-up shirt, completely inappropriate for the battlefield, yet somehow not out of place. Behind them stood row after row of vampires in monster form, demons, goblins, and other large, lumbering beasts.
She glanced to the left, her hand tightening on the hilt of her sword. A man who looked familiar nodded in acknowledgment, love and pride in his eyes. Fanning out beside and behind him were men and women dressed in the same battle gear she wore. They oozed magic like a wound oozes blood, but it comforted rather than frightened her. Her kindred. They nodded to her.
“Battle is a part of us,” she said, loud and clear. These words did not seem hollow and out of place. They clearly belonged in the scene she was witnessing. “We have the blood of warriors. We will decide the victor.”
Three figures stood between the two groups, pushed off to the side and standing close together, their formation something of a pyramid. Charity couldn’t make out their features. Opposite them, halfway between Charity’s and Vlad’s groups, waited a breathtaking man who could only be a vampire.
Expectation rose. The song of battle intensified. But still they waited.
They waited for her.
A blink and it was all gone. The light faded and the colors muted into the dingy yellows and beiges of the run-down hotel suite. Furry bodies launched past her, heading for the open door. A huge, snarling wolf stepped into the doorframe and blocked the others from leaving.
Devon tore his lupine gaze from her, and a growl rumbled deep in his chest. If she had to guess, Dale was challenging him, even now. He probably didn’t think they should rush out with Charity in this state.
But for the first time since the battle at Devon’s house, she felt strong and capable. Ready to kick some ass.
“Let’s go,” she yelled, noticing Steve and Cole were still in human form. “What’s the hold-up?”
Steve winked. “Too many wolves in here. Not enough space for the big guns.”
Devon rushed forward, pushing through the furry bodies to get to Dale. In front of the mutinous wolf stood two vampires, their eyes hard and their claws extended from human hands. Only higher-level vamps could partially transform like that.
Didn’t matter. They were blocking her way.
“Move!” Charity pumped a pulse of power in front of her, clearing the wolves to the side (a little more forcefully than she’d planned). The vampires’ eyes found her immediately. One grinned.
She lifted her hand to send bursts of power after them, but they dashed down the hallway, one in each direction. They were trying to split Devon’s pack.