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Every ally to come their way was a creature of flight. The griffins were the last to arrive, right after the manticores.

As impressed as Eli was, Lomos, at first with jaw dropped, leaned in to complain under his breath, “How fucking old are these races?”

Slade turned with her back to the mass of creatures, echoing the same sentiment as she muttered, “I half expected to see a fucking wyvern at this point—that’s how ridiculously old these runes are. Are they from the dawn of fucking time?” she screamed in a whisper. “How are we supposed to fight Manny with spears and whips...?”

She picked her head up, but Eli turned to meet her. “Spears? How about rocks?”

Marrow zipped by them. His shoulder clipped Slade’s and she allowed herself to fall into Eli so the bastard fairy would feel some satisfaction. Davenport was who the fairy answered to when he said, “The wyverns aren’t coming.”

“Really?” Davenport didn’t mask his disappointment well. He muttered under his breath, “Mistake one for a dragon and they never forgive it! Curse them. Fine.” He extended his arms to Slade. “Your army. Please do yourself a favor and do not step on any pixies. They are very hard to clean up after and the odor...well, that never really does go away.”

Slade tried to pick up her foot to look but caught herself.

“Best if you amble,” Davenport advised.

One thing was very interesting about these so-called volunteers—none of them looked like Davenport. Slade had held out hope that seeing a female of his kind, or perhaps another male, would narrow down his race for her. Nothing.

They set off into the forest, Lomos too embarrassed to walk all that closely, so he went ahead.

Slade wished she could disappear in there with him.

“He’ll go in as a wolf probably,” Eli told her.

Throughout the day, he’d tried to hold her hand but with little success. Lately, he’d been acting differently but now he was back to his old self because he didn’t try more than a few times before giving up all together. Typical Eli.

Despite their embarrassing army at their back, Eli’s focus was elsewhere.

“Have you changed your mind about us?”

Slade didn’t think this was the time for this discussion. She didn’t want to argue but his stance surprised her. “You heard them.”

Eli, still bare save for the kilt, dodged low tree branches as they went further in. As expected, most of their ‘army’ took to flying over them instead of venturing in on foot. All but the fairies who zipped here and there, and...Davenport. He had wings, of that Slade was certain, but they were...short. Even those she wanted to see.

“Ma’am?”

Slade groaned. This wasn’t the time. “I don’t want to argue.”

“I’m not looking to argue. I’m looking for a reason to fight.”

His words dragged her to a halt. If not for the others stopping as well, she wouldn’t have walked on.

As soon as she started to move, everyone else followed. Slade felt helpless. “You’d abandon this endeavor?”

Eli didn’t answer for some time. Finally, he said, “Your brother’s methods be forgiven, I don’t know that he’s wrong. He wishes to free you all. I...if he could use a wolf instead—”

Slade shoved him. “Say that again,” she challenged. “Open your mouth and say something equally as stupid.”

But whatever aggression Eli showed others, he never turned it toward her. Today was no different.

“You need to be realistic,” he warned. They broke through to the clearing. “You’re a vampire, and I’m a werewolf. I will die before you. We all know this. Why do you think werewolves stick together? You think it’s some pride or bigotry? It’s because at least a family’s lifecycle will be synced. But if you’d get a chance at freedom, then why not take it?”

This time when they stopped and turned to one another, their so-called army overtook them and closed in on the wolves exiting various tents.

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“Think realistically. What do you want? What is best for you and your kind? What is best for us?”

Slade willed him to shut up. As stern as she’d made her glare, he ignored it.

“So give me a reason to fight,” Eli begged. “Are we or are we not done as a couple?”

Wasn’t that obvious? Life and death hung in the balance and this was his concern.

“This is not the time—”

“It’s the only time. We don’t fight for our lives; we fight for our families. That’s why solitary creatures like wyverns have no reason to come until something they love is threatened.”

His challenge was sound and the words to confirm his fears should have been easy. She struggled to say them but all she could utter was, “I don’t trust Davenport.”

“Yeah. No shit.” Eli let out a sigh. “You cannot give him Trixie’s egg. It doesn’t matter if he says it’s for a collection—”

“He didn’t say that.”

Eli drilled an index finger against his own temple. “He didn’t say anything at all! Putting the thought into our head is even worse.”

Slade stared at Eli’s chest, praying for any sort of distraction.

“I don’t want whatever child I bring into this world to be food.” It was hard to see his disappointment in her admission of giving up on them but she endured it. “And I don’t want them to be vampires—”

“Damn it. How much more self-hate can you display!”

His shout had birds taking flight.

Stunned, Slade gave no response.

“You are what you are. I am what I am. But you never accept it. You never accept what roles we play in this game called life. I have. I never fooled myself into thinking you never indulged. I never fooled myself into thinking you were different from your people.” Teeth gritted, he yelled, “You are a vampire. You don’t get the luxury to walk around brooding about the world being on your damn shoulders. You’re a vampire. Act like it!”

He stomped off toward the awaiting wolf pack.

Act like it.

Slade stared after him, feeling stupid. No. Stupid wasn’t the word. When she finally took the steps needed to reach the werewolf camp, it occurred to her. Shame. He’d shamed her.

A gathering was taking place, one that the fairies organized. Marrow, along with several of his ilk, zipped here and there, calling the wolves to attention.

“Those vucking fampires. We all know how terrible they are. So we’ve come to help you fight. And you couldn’t ask for a more dedicated posse!” Marrow’s gut practically dragged him down when he attempted to look stoic and regal. “Night or day, we’ll fight those vucking fampires.”

One fairy chimed, “Right. Vuck them! Vuck those fampires!”

It was a chorus within a matter of minutes, one that had werewolves in kilts turning their heads to keep the snickers at bay. There was a reason the Fae were rarely called upon for a battle cry. Still, the wolves made no objection; some even managed to nod without smiling.

Lomos was among them. He blended rather well as a wolf.

Slade’s intent was to catch up to Eli to see if he was serious about abandoning the fight. He half talked like he meant to help Manny, which was impossible. When she closed in on him, he cut her a glance then pretended not to see her.

As small as that gesture was, she was gutted.

She needed him; she couldn’t trust anyone else. Trixie was gone, who knew if she was alive or dead. Lomos was acting in his own self-interest. Manny...was Manny. Eli had been her only constant.

But maybe that was the problem. She leaned on him too much.

The oldest of the wolves converged on the tent in the middle. Davenport made himself at home. Marrow shoved several others aside to get a more dignified entrance. Two fairies joined him. Creature after creature entered. Whichever were too big to go in, sent two pixies to represent their interests. Slade was all that was left. Lomos met her at the mouth of the tent. He shifted to a man and made himself presentable. Eli didn’t join them.

Instead, Eli stood before that tent, staring Slade down.

Did he intend to make her beg? She’d thought as much at first but it started to dawn on her that he was wrestling with what to do, if he should go in at all.

Lomos looked between them then asked Slade, “Ma’am? Should we enter?”

Much like a wounded animal hiding from sight, Slade drew her shoulders up and skulked into the tent. It was bigger inside than she’d imagined. Magic could go a long way for the ones in power—werewolves. And considering that wolves weren’t known for using magic freely, all of their runes were plentiful and rich.

The last of the officials entered.

“That’s everyone,” a pixie said in a baritone voice. “The thunderbirds are represented by I.”

“The griffins by me,” another pixie said. Pixie after pixie called out their prospective charges.

Slade thought to look back to see if Eli’d come but she forced herself not to. Someone stepped beside her and tugged on her dress. Rigid, Slade waited for that familiar grip to slip into hers before she could breathe easier.

“Thought you had no reason to fight,” she muttered.

Eli muttered back, “That’s always going to be up to you.”

“We have news,” a familiar voice thundered.

The werewolf to have entered made his way toward them. Much like Eli, Slade remained rigid.

Eli’s father passed them by and joined the other five werewolf elders gathered around a small table.

The fact that he was here wasn’t as surprising as what he said next. “There is no gorilla. We have it on good authority.”

Marrow flew forward, vexed. “Then what are we here for? Isn’t this a raid to save a primate? That’s why we’ve gathered, to stop those vucking fampires from feeding and causing more trouble. They’re dangerous. Everyone knows—”

Franklin Monroe put up his right hand and received quiet. “That was our original thought. But we’ve been informed of something bigger.” He scanned the crowd and said, “There isn’t a gorilla, but rather, a baby.”

Slade’s breath hitched. Eli squeezed her hand, urging her to calm down and play it off.

“And it’s human.”

Gasp after gasp sounded until all hell broke loose.

“Friends. Friends.” Franklin raised his hands. “Hear me out. We must rescue this child—we must rescue him at all cost.”

Several pixies disappeared, moving so fast the eye couldn’t follow. When they appeared again, the one from the thunderbirds bellowed, “The thunderbirds will not stand for this.”

“Calm.” Franklin still wore a pleased smile despite the utter hell breaking loose outside the tent if the stomps were any indication. “It is a werewolf shifted in the womb.”

Relief rushed through Slade and she glanced at Lomos who wouldn’t look at her.

Franklin beamed with pride and announced, “Eli’s child. My grandson. So we have to save him.”

Eli picked his head up and zeroed in on Lomos who watched him defiant.

His chest heaved and his tight grip was no longer for Slade’s benefit; it was to keep him from killing a fellow wolf.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Lomos said, looking Eli in the eye without a hint of guilt to the lie. “I tried to keep your secret for as long as I could.”