long gashes in his clothes, and grabbed him, pulling him into her arms and cradling his upper body. “Father?”
Her father’s age-worn face was still and peaceful, his body limp in her arms. Short breaths escaped his parted lips, each one a little further apart, stealing her hope in pieces.
“Father?” she whispered and touched his face. It was cold. Tears rolled off her cheeks and dotted his face, cutting through the blood and ash.
Winter stopped beside her. She looked up at him, her eyebrows furrowed as she longed for him to say something to make this all better. Maybe if Winter told her that her father wouldn’t die, then he wouldn’t.
“Who did this?” she said with a glance around the village. Everything she had known was gone. All her memories erased in one violent malicious act. Why?
“The werewolves,” Winter said without a trace of emotion. Her gaze came back to him.
“If the werewolves did this then maybe my father will—”
A shake of Winter’s head stole her voice.
He knelt beside her and touched her cheek. Her eyelids dropped and she leaned into his palm, seeking comfort and an end to the pain tearing her apart inside. An end to this terrible nightmare.
“Why won’t they?” she whispered, the thought of losing everything making her numb. If her father became like her then she wouldn’t be alone. It would be less painful when Winter left.
Nika shifted against his palm and looked up at him. There was anguish in his dark eyes. For her? Because of her suffering? She could easily fool herself into believing that.
“They did not bite them.”
Nika looked down at her father and the claw marks scoring his flesh. Winter was right. There were no bite marks. The shapes she had seen hadn’t been those of wolves. They had been men. Why had they done this? Wasn’t it enough that they had taken her life? She slumped, so tired and weary. She wanted to give up, to let the flames consume her as they had consumed her world. She didn’t have the strength to go on, couldn’t imagine what other horrors awaited her.
Her heart leapt when her father’s eyelids rose with effort to reveal green eyes that matched her own. His bloodied lips opened and closed soundlessly several times, showing his crimson stained teeth, and he grabbed her coat and weakly pulled her towards him.
“What’s wrong?” she whispered, holding him gently, desperate to hear what he was trying to say.
His gaze shifted to Winter and then back again. He said something that she couldn’t make out and she leaned in closer, straining to hear. His fingers tightened around her coat collar and he stiffened as a shadow of pain crossed his face, his eyes screwing shut.
“Father!” Nika rocked him a little when his eyes didn’t open again.
With what looked like considerable effort, her father opened his eyes and gazed up at her, his hand still gripping her fiercely.
“Willem… the pact…” he said in a broken whisper. Nika brought her ear right down to his mouth so she could hear him. “Your hand… to protect the village. Willem… pact broken… because… him.”
His gaze slid to Winter.
She didn’t understand. A pact and someone called Willem. Broken because of Winter?
“Winter?” she said and looked up at him. He shrugged, looking as confused as she felt. She turned back to her father. “What pact? Why Winter?”
The thought that her father had died because of Winter made her heart sting and anger flood her. If Winter had been responsible for the attack on her village, she didn’t know what she was going to do. When she thought about her friends that had died tonight, she wanted to fight him, wanted to make him pay and take revenge for their lost lives. For her father’s lost life.
Her father shook his head an inch to the right and back again. He coughed and a small red line of blood crept from the corner of his mouth. Nika carefully wiped it away, smiling down at him through her tears. She stroked his cheek to
Her father’s age-worn face was still and peaceful, his body limp in her arms. Short breaths escaped his parted lips, each one a little further apart, stealing her hope in pieces.
“Father?” she whispered and touched his face. It was cold. Tears rolled off her cheeks and dotted his face, cutting through the blood and ash.
Winter stopped beside her. She looked up at him, her eyebrows furrowed as she longed for him to say something to make this all better. Maybe if Winter told her that her father wouldn’t die, then he wouldn’t.
“Who did this?” she said with a glance around the village. Everything she had known was gone. All her memories erased in one violent malicious act. Why?
“The werewolves,” Winter said without a trace of emotion. Her gaze came back to him.
“If the werewolves did this then maybe my father will—”
A shake of Winter’s head stole her voice.
He knelt beside her and touched her cheek. Her eyelids dropped and she leaned into his palm, seeking comfort and an end to the pain tearing her apart inside. An end to this terrible nightmare.
“Why won’t they?” she whispered, the thought of losing everything making her numb. If her father became like her then she wouldn’t be alone. It would be less painful when Winter left.
Nika shifted against his palm and looked up at him. There was anguish in his dark eyes. For her? Because of her suffering? She could easily fool herself into believing that.
“They did not bite them.”
Nika looked down at her father and the claw marks scoring his flesh. Winter was right. There were no bite marks. The shapes she had seen hadn’t been those of wolves. They had been men. Why had they done this? Wasn’t it enough that they had taken her life? She slumped, so tired and weary. She wanted to give up, to let the flames consume her as they had consumed her world. She didn’t have the strength to go on, couldn’t imagine what other horrors awaited her.
Her heart leapt when her father’s eyelids rose with effort to reveal green eyes that matched her own. His bloodied lips opened and closed soundlessly several times, showing his crimson stained teeth, and he grabbed her coat and weakly pulled her towards him.
“What’s wrong?” she whispered, holding him gently, desperate to hear what he was trying to say.
His gaze shifted to Winter and then back again. He said something that she couldn’t make out and she leaned in closer, straining to hear. His fingers tightened around her coat collar and he stiffened as a shadow of pain crossed his face, his eyes screwing shut.
“Father!” Nika rocked him a little when his eyes didn’t open again.
With what looked like considerable effort, her father opened his eyes and gazed up at her, his hand still gripping her fiercely.
“Willem… the pact…” he said in a broken whisper. Nika brought her ear right down to his mouth so she could hear him. “Your hand… to protect the village. Willem… pact broken… because… him.”
His gaze slid to Winter.
She didn’t understand. A pact and someone called Willem. Broken because of Winter?
“Winter?” she said and looked up at him. He shrugged, looking as confused as she felt. She turned back to her father. “What pact? Why Winter?”
The thought that her father had died because of Winter made her heart sting and anger flood her. If Winter had been responsible for the attack on her village, she didn’t know what she was going to do. When she thought about her friends that had died tonight, she wanted to fight him, wanted to make him pay and take revenge for their lost lives. For her father’s lost life.
Her father shook his head an inch to the right and back again. He coughed and a small red line of blood crept from the corner of his mouth. Nika carefully wiped it away, smiling down at him through her tears. She stroked his cheek to
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