Tall, Silent & Lethal (Pyte/Sentinel 4)

“Marta?” Christofer murmured, confirming his suspicions that this was the woman listed as his sister. Christofer moved towards the bed, his voice cracking with emotion when he spotted her lying on the bed with her hands resting on her stomach. His gaze moved from the empty prescription bottles and then the note on the bed. “Oh………God……..”

Danni took a step towards the grieving man, but Caine smartly kept her with him. Ephraim shifted to the side, putting himself between the Pyte dropping to his knees by the bed and Danni. Without taking his eyes off Christofer, he held up a hand and gave the signal for Caine to take Danni out of the room. Thankfully this time Danni didn’t argue. Instead, she allowed her mate to push her gently in front of him and left the room.

Never taking his eyes off the Pyte trying to rouse Marta, Ephraim opened his senses and listened as Danni and Caine headed towards the woman, a marked woman judging by the scent that he’d picked up a half mile down the road, and a vampire in the basement. A few seconds later he heard Chris mutter a curse as he registered the click of a lock, letting him know that his son and the pain in the ass shifter that they were stuck with were now inside.

Knowing that the situation downstairs was handled and that his son was safely away from the Pyte that was most likely seconds from losing it, he was able to focus on the man in front of him. His hair was shorter and his clothes were just as simple as they had been in the old black and white images that Izzy had sent to his iPad. This was definitely Christofer Petersen, the Pyte they’d been sent to retrieve before Masters saw that Facebook post and came after him.

“Marta? Marta!” the Pyte cried, a sob breaking free as he gently shook the woman. “No! Goddamnit, no!”

His grief was so raw that it damn near knocked Ephraim on his ass. If it had been anyone else he would have stepped out of the room and given the man some time alone with his sister, but this wasn’t anyone else. This was a Pyte who could lose it at any second and make the world pay for his pain and with his son in the house that wasn’t an option.

Chris was a Sentinel. He was a hell of a lot stronger than humans. He could probably go a few rounds with a Pyte under normal circumstances, but once the Pyte lost control and went into bloodlust Chris was just as vulnerable as any human. Even though Chris had the ability to heal faster than humans, there were still some things that he would never be able to heal from and a Pyte on a rampage was one of those things.

“Don’t leave me, Marta!” Christofer begged, gently pulling the woman’s frail body in his arms. “Don’t leave me,” he sobbed, gently rocking the woman in his arms as though she were a baby seconds before he began singing what sounded like a lullaby in German.

Ephraim swallowed, wishing that he could be anywhere but here. God, he didn’t think that he could take another minute of this, because he knew without a doubt that one day that he would be in the same position when Madison’s grandmother passed away. He cared about that woman a great deal and it killed him that he couldn’t save her. Her loss was something that he wouldn’t be able to avoid, but his children…..

He’d be damned if he was going to be forced to sit around and wait for any of his children or grandchildren to take their last breaths. When it was time, he was going to change Jill, his grandchildren and hopefully Chris and Izzy whether or not the Council approved. This wasn’t their call to make no matter what they believed.

Christofer didn’t even look his way, no doubt blinded by his grief as he moved to sit on the bed and hold his sister in his arms. He squeezed his eyes shut, tears streaming down his face as he continued to rock the woman in his arms as he sang to her. As Ephraim watched, he couldn’t help but wonder why Christofer hadn’t changed her years ago when she’d been young enough to handle the change. Then again, maybe he already had a mate or he simply didn’t know how to change someone without killing them. The way that Christofer held his sister in his arms told him that it was the latter. He probably would have done anything to save her.

They should be leaving, putting as much distance between themselves and this house as quickly as possible, but he just couldn’t force himself to interrupt this man’s grief. He needed a chance to say goodbye and he was going to give it to-

A vicious growl suddenly tore through the small bedroom as Christofer’s head snapped up. His red eyes focused on the open doorway as he bared his fangs in another vicious snarl. Wondering if they were too late, Ephraim opened his senses expecting to hear a small army descending on the house, but there was nothing. He was just about to go outside and do a quick sweep of the area just in case they were being descended upon by demons when he heard it.

“She needs to be moved to the van,” Chris said, just as Ephraim heard a bed dip beneath someone’s weight. With a curse, he detected the unmistakable scent of his son’s scent mingling with the marked woman’s. His son had seriously f**ked up.

“Relax,” Ephraim said, stepping in front of the door as he held up his hands, hoping to talk some sense into the Pyte before it was too late, “we’re here to help you, Christofer.”

The vicious snarl that followed wasn’t exactly encouraging. Neither was the fact that the Pyte seemed to be looking right through him, oblivious to the fact that he was standing there, trying to stop him from tearing his son apart. So much for this being an easy extraction, Ephraim thought. He watched the Pyte press one last kiss against his sister’s forehead as his attention remained fixed on the door. With one last mumbled goodbye to his sister, Christofer headed for the door.

“Christofer,” Ephraim said, stressing the Pyte’s name as he held up his hand in a stopping motion. “I’m going to need you to calm-oh, f**k,” he said, the last part leaving him in a pained grunt as a very large, and very pissed off, Pyte in bloodlust slammed into him, knocking him off his feet and sending him flying across the hallway into the living room where an old television and a wall broke his fall. He heard several sickening cracks as bones broke and his head was whacked against what felt like a fireplace before he was dropped on his ass with a weak grunt.

“That’s the last f**king time that I ever try to negotiate with a Pyte in bloodlust,” he muttered, wincing in pain as he forced himself to get to his unsteady feet. Ignoring the black dots cascading his vision, he pulled his weapon free from its holster at his back and went after the Pyte.