The Beast Within (The Elite Series) Page 10

  The first Elite to reach Lu was the bigger of the two; he had close-cropped black hair and a scar that ran from his right temple to his left ear. Lu met his attacker head on and they collided with monstrous force. Lu took his attacker to the floor immediately. Sitting on the scarred Elite’s chest, Lu rained down blow after blow of vicious strikes.

  He landed a few of these before the other male Elite was on top of him, dragging him off his friend and pinning his arms behind his back. But he was too late, his counterpart lay limp and lifeless on the floor. Lu’s new attacker was built like a bookcase, square shouldered, sturdy and strong as an ox. Before Lu could engage this new threat, Faust, who had observed the fight until now, crossed the distance separating them. Producing a wicked-looking brass knuckle, he inserted the fingers of his right hand through the holes and formed a fist. He threw a punch and struck Lu across the left jaw, invoking a shower of dark crimson blood from his mouth.

  On the other side of the room, Laren got the best of her adversary with a series of jabs and a powerful right hook. The female Elite was slowly dragging herself off the floor as Randolph and Laren now circled each other. They waited, each searching for the right moment.

  Randolph was the first to strike. Feinting a left punch, he instead stepped into a right body shot with all his weight. The blow connected with Laren’s stomach, doubling her over and taking her breath. The female Elite, who had now regained her composure, assisted Randolph by restraining Laren. Forcing her in a kneeling position, Randolph grasped her left arm behind her and the female Elite, blood dripping from her nose, held a vice-like grip on Laren’s right.

  They forced Laren to watch as Faust landed another blow to Lu’s face. Blood ran freely from his mouth and nose. Crimson covered half his face.

  “Lupus, you stupid, stupid boy. Did you ever think you would win?” He turned to look at Laren. “And now you can watch your brother die, Larentia, and see first-hand the power of my family.”

  This all took place in a matter of seconds. They were as fast as cheetahs and as brutal as raging bulls. Connor knew he had to do something before it was too late. He was outmatched in speed, strength, and numbers. What he did have going for him, however, was the element of surprise. A plan quickly began to form in his mind as he quietly made his way from the window to the front entrance.

  The rain had stopped now, and a cold breeze played with the trees, swaying branches back and forth in a slow dance. Connor watched every step, careful not to make the tiniest of sounds as he turned the corner and placed himself at the front door. Readjusting his grip on the pickaxe handle, he crouched. His timing would have to be perfect, his luck even better.

  Although he wasn’t able to see what was going on inside, he could still hear. Faust was going on about how he would rule the Five Families with an iron grip and how the history books would remember his valor in battle. This was followed by another thud. It sounded like a punch to the body.

  Still Connor waited. He was waiting for the right moment, the moment when Faust and his band would be the most vulnerable, and the moment soon arrived.

  “I bore of this nonsense,” Faust said. “Lift his head and let me have a clear shot at his throat.”

  “No!” Laren screamed, sobbing. “Please no. I’ll do anything. Please stop!”

  “Just as the weak plead to the strong,” was Faust’s wicked reply.

  This was the moment Connor was waiting for, the moment when Faust and his accomplices were so sure of victory they wouldn’t be able to see anything else.

  Connor knew he should be nervous, that would have been the appropriate response for anyone in his situation, but he wasn’t. More disturbing than his lack of nerves was the fact he was somewhat excited. His pulse quickened and a tingling sensation enveloped him. He could do this. He knew he could. The force within him—that drove him—assured him. He even wanted to laugh like he’d done so many times before when he welcomed a challenge, but this was different. He shook his head free of the idea of taking delight in such a horrible circumstance and once again focused on the task at hand.

  Connor took a deep breath, counted to three in his head, and burst through the door. As he expected, the old wooden door, much like the rest of the building, was on its last leg. Behind his force, it shattered as though it were a glass window. Eyes focused on his target, he sprinted into the room.

  Time slowed. Laren and the others turned. By the time they comprehended what was going on, Connor was mere feet from his target.

  As much as he would have rather saved Laren, he knew the best chance they all had for survival was if he could free Lu. Every fiber in his heart told him to run to her, to strike down anyone causing her pain and keep her safe. Likewise, every synapse in his brain told him freeing Lu was the obvious choice. He wasn’t only the bigger of the two in size, but had already ended the career of one of their attackers.

  Lu was slumped in his captor’s arms, half conscious as Connor burst through the door. The cold hand of his enemy raised his head, revealing his throat. The blows he’d already endured would have been enough to kill any human. For Lu, they only dazed him, and as the long fingers of unconsciousness sought to wrap themselves around him, Lu’s yellow eyes saw his savior approaching.

  Connor brushed past Faust, who, still processing what was happening, made a snarling noise and a halfhearted attempt at a grab, but he was too slow. Without reducing his speed, Connor raised the silver-headed pickaxe in a huge arc. With a roar he didn’t know was inside him, he sunk the tip deep into skull of the Elite holding Lu.

  He must have penetrated four or five inches of brain matter because the pickaxe was solidly placed. The Elite released his grip on Lu, his eyes turned from black back to blue, and his fangs receded as he stumbled to his knees and weakly groped at the pickaxe embedded in his head. Eventually he fell to the dirty wooden floor, never to rise again.

  With no time for celebration, Connor grabbed the dark green metal handle of the nearest kerosene lamp and pivoted his body, ready to throw it into Faust’s chest. But he wasn’t there. Connor realized what happened too late. In the seconds it took him to grab the lamp, Faust recovered from his shock and placed himself behind Connor.

  Connor could feel his cold breath on the nape of his neck. Faust’s anger was palpable. He only made it a half turn before Faust grabbed him around the throat, picked him up off the ground, and slammed him against the wall.

  The impact Connor’s body made against the wall rattled his teeth and took his breath away. Even more disappointing, the sudden jolt made him drop the lamp. Now with his feet dangling a few inches from the floor, he struggled to breathe. Both his hands fought against Faust’s death hold, but to no avail. Faust was too strong. Without the element of surprise, things were looking worse every second.

  “Who are you?” Faust growled.

  Connor couldn’t even breathe, much less respond. His mind groped for an answer as his eyes took in his surroundings. Lu was struggling to make it to his knees. Laren had somehow managed to wrestle free from her captors but was still grappling with her two assailants.

  Blond eyebrows furrowed, Faust leaned in toward his victim, his nose inhaling a huge whiff of air.

  Stepping back and once again holding Connor at arm’s length, he cocked his head to the side. “What are you?”

  Connor had to buy enough time for Lu to recover or for Laren to break free. His mind was fuzzy; with no oxygen to work with, his thought process slowed. He concentrated on answering Faust’s question but with no air, it came out as little more than a gasp.

  Intrigued, Faust loosened his grip on Connor’s neck and lowered him to the ground.

  “What was that?” he asked.

  Connor could see Lu making his way from kneeling to standing.. Connor gasped for air, still holding Faust’s hand in both of his.

  “I’m…” he drew in another breath of sweet air, “I’m the last thing you’re ever going to see.”

  Releasing his grip on Faust’s h
and, he reached toward his executioner’s face, and with every ounce of strength he could muster, jammed his thumbs into the dark orbs Faust called eyes.

  A howl of pain broke free from deep within Faust’s chest. Releasing Connor’s throat, he broke the grasp Connor held on his eyes, once again throwing him against the wall.

  Connor tried to regain the oxygen his lungs needed with deep breaths. Faust’s eye sockets were bloody and hollow. Blood was spattered down his suit and tie, dripping onto his expensive black shoes.

  Faust was beyond any human words now; with a growl and open jaws, he disregarded his brass knuckle, letting it fall to the floor as he lunged toward Connor. Faust was so fast Connor had no time to react. He aimed his jaws at Connor’s throat, but missed, and clamping instead around his left shoulder.

  With the force of a steel bear trap, Faust sunk his razor-sharp teeth deep, penetrating both skin and muscle. Connor screamed in pain. He tried beating, clawing, and scraping his attacker. The pain was worse than anything he had ever endured. He was sure Faust had bitten down to his bone and was now crushing tendons and ligaments. His shoulder felt like it was on fire.

  Snapping his head, Faust threw Connor halfway across the room, sending him crashing into an old wooden crate. His vision blurred with pain, Connor tried to get up, but his left shoulder gave out beneath him. His white shirt was now drenched in blood. His left arm was numb.

  Before he was able to gather himself and manage a second attempt to rise to his feet, an eyeless Faust tackled him.

  More beast than human, Faust pushed him to the ground. He clawed at Connor’s chest with the ferocity of a wild animal. Connor was powerless to stop him and was within a few seconds of giving up all hope. Faust was too strong, and with a near broken shoulder, Connor was helpless.

  Connor accepted his fate, his thoughts turning to Laren. His body vibrated and shook with pain, but instead of agony, all Connor felt was hope. Hope that Laren would survive the night and that he’d done enough to save her.

  He closed his eyes, giving himself over to the darkness. But fate had other plans for Connor Moore. Suddenly the clawing and tearing stopped. Opening his eyes, he saw Randolph. Suit crimson with blood, his face told an entire story by itself. His lip was sliced open, with swelling already forcing his right eye closed, and his expression displayed a look of concern and fear.

  “Come, Faust. The day is lost. It’s over.”

  Faust was beyond all reason, giving in to his inner beast. Randolph grabbed him and half dragged, half carried him out of the room, disappearing into the damp night.

  Connor trembled with pain and fatigue. He was no doctor, but he knew the wounds he received were life threatening. As he lay motionless on the floor, he heard a scream that marked the end of their last enemy.

  At least he was able to save them. He could take comfort in that. Now if he could only see her one more time. His eyes flickered open.

  “Oh, Connor. No. No. You’re going to be okay.”

  Connor was fading fast. Laren looked like a shadow now. Her green eyes were the only thing bright enough for him to focus on. He could tell Laren and Lu were talking about him, but their voices were muffled. He was losing control of his senses.

  “Connor, stay with me. I’m going to save you. I know you’re one of us. You have to be. But I need you to know this is going to get worse before it gets better. I’ll be here for you, but to save you, I’m going to have to put you through more pain. I just need you to know.”

  Connor managed a weak smile and an even weaker, “Sounds great,” before a wave of coughing savaged his body.

  Laren held his shaking frame until the coughs passed, then held him once more at arm’s length. She was different.

  Laren changed. In place of her sparkling green eyes, yellow moons stared back at him, and where her perfect smile was before, a dangerous set of fangs greeted him.

  Too weak to do anything else, Connor felt his body being lifted towards this being. She hugged him firmly, brought her mouth to his neck, and clenched her jaws around his jugular.

  It was a feeling unlike any he ever experienced. It was as if life flowed both out of him and into him, as if an inner part of him he always knew was there, had awakened.

  With each passing second, he felt stronger; his vision cleared, his shoulder and chest ceased to hurt, and breathing came easier. Still she bit him, a steel trap, her jaws wrapped around his neck. Just as he was about to push her off , the real pain started.

  This pain wasn’t like the pain in his shoulder and chest, and it wasn’t like a broken bone or gash. This pain came from deep inside, as though an animal was tearing its way out. It was blinding, consuming, breathtaking. It steadily intensified until Connor didn’t know if he could handle anymore. A cry escaped from his throat completely on its own. Was it a cry or a roar? He didn’t know. All he knew was that his body was alive with power, with rage, with intensity.

  There was a beast awakening inside him and the beast wasn’t happy someone had disturbed its slumber. It was tearing its way out. The power was overwhelming, intoxicating. The last thing Connor remembered was bone-crushing pain and then… nothing.

  CHAPTER 10

  CONNOR OPENED HIS EYES; HE was trying to recall a dream. Was it last night or the night before? He couldn’t remember, all he knew was that it was the nicest dream he’d had in a very long time. It was on the verge of his memory, playing with his consciousness. He redoubled his effort but all he could recall was a warm sun and the presence of someone watching over him who loved him very much.

  Unable to bring the details of his dream to the surface, he took in his surroundings. He was in a large bed with white sheets in a gigantic room. The room was decorated elegantly with expensive paintings and rich carpets. A large window allowed light and clean air to breeze through.

  The air was sweeter than he remembered. His ears perked up as he caught a variety of noises. Birds chirped outside, faint voices met his ears, and the wind even made a light, whooshing sound. He rose from his bed and walked to the window, the thick rug hugging his feet in warmth. He was shirtless and dressed in long white pajama bottoms that weren’t his but fit him nonetheless.

  He opened the dark red curtains. Connor stared out the window, startled with the scene that lay before him. The familiar houses and streets of suburban New York were gone. The trees and buildings he’d become so familiar with were nowhere to be found, instead open fields met his eyes. He had to be on the third or maybe even the fourth story of the building because the ground below him was too far to jump. A countryside that in any other situation would have seemed breathtaking was now alien and confusing.

  Connor narrowed his eyes, concentrating on the events that brought him here, and where “here” even was. His dark eyebrows furrowed and he bit his lower lip as he tried to remember.

  The events that took place in the Catskill Forest came to him all at once. He remembered it all: the fight, the killing, Laren biting him, and his wounds. He had murdered someone. The realization hit him like a ton of bricks. But he had to, didn’t he? Laren and Lu would be dead if he hadn’t done something. He would be dead. Remembering his own wounds, Connor looked down at his chest but nothing was there. Examining his shoulder revealed not so much as a kitten’s scratch.

  To the contrary, Connor felt as strong as ever. His olive skin was tight around his toned body, and his muscles felt bigger and stronger. Crossing to a mirror on the other side of the large room, he examined himself. Sure enough, his shoulder and chest where Faust had bit and clawed him were completely healed and the person looking back at him even seemed a bit taller and more muscular than he remembered.

  The absence of his wounds made Connor second-guess himself and wonder if it had all been some kind of crazy dream, but that was impossible. There was no way he could have imagined or made up the entire thing. Could he?

  He was interrupted by a light knock at the door. The massive wooden door reminded him more of a cellar gate than a room d
oor as he placed his hand on the bulky brass handle and turned the knob.

  Morrigan greeted him. She smiled. She wore a simple cream-colored dress and matching sandals. A golden headband held back her black hair. In her right hand she held a plain green t-shirt.

  “Well, hello there, Mr. Moore. You look well.”

  Connor nodded his head numbly, words escaping him.

  “May I come in?” she asked, handing over the shirt.

  “Oh, yes, please.” Connor took a step back, allowing her access to the room as he took the shirt from her. He pulled the soft material over his head. “Where am I?”

  Morrigan, now standing in the middle of the room, looked at him. “There’s so much to be explained and even more to be done. Connor, I must apologize to you. All this has happened faster than I anticipated. I’ve put you in a confusing position.”

  She took a deep breath. “Following the events that occurred in the forest, Laren and Lu decided to tell their father, the head of the Council, all that transpired, throwing their fate in with yours. Now the Council has been convened and they await your recovery for the trial to begin. You were unconscious for two days. While your body accepted the Elite gene and healed itself, you were flown here, to the Abelardus estate. Laren has kept a constant vigil by your side. She’s only gone now because I insisted she get some sleep.”

  “I’m at Laren’s family’s house? That can’t be right. Laren and her family, according to you, are from Europe. And if I’ve been out for two days, my mother has to be going insane with worry.”

  “Well, if you want to get technical, you’re in Laren’s family’s castle, located in the Spanish countryside, and your mother thinks you were called away to college for a spur of the moment orientation trip.”

  “I know my mother too well to believe she would be all right with me disappearing without so much as a good-bye or even a phone call.”