Alpha Omega 02 - Hunting Ground

should already have known—Omega didn’t mean doormat. It didn’t mean weak. It meant strong enough to do exactly what it had to in order to triumph, whether that meant cringing in the presence of dominant wolves or tearing her enemy apart.
    Anna was too far gone to pinpoint exactly when she understood what had attacked them: vampires. But she remembered Asil’s lessons in how to kill them. When the vampire lay in two pieces—body at her feet and head rather nearer to Moira, who was screaming in incoherent rage—the wolf gave a satisfied snort and let Anna take over. And Anna heard what the wolf had not.
    What Moira was yelling was, “Damn it, damn it—tell me what they are! Tom. Tom. Anna!”
    And, as she sprinted to the pile of bodies that must have Tom on the bottom, Anna told her, “Vampires.”
    Moira didn’t hear her, so Anna ripped the arm off the vampire she’d been trying to pry off Tom, and yelled, “Vampires, Moira. Vampires! ”
    And light exploded around them, warm and brilliant—and the vampires she and Tom hadn’t killed stopped fighting and ran. Anna’s vampire grabbed his arm off the ground before tearing after the others. Anna took a step after them, then forced herself to stop.
    There were still four vampires, and that was probably three too many for her—and she couldn’t abandon her fallen comrades.
    â€œTom?”
    â€œHe’s alive,” she told Moira after a quick-but-thorough examination—done from five feet away. “But he’s going to need a moment before he’s ready to believe we aren’t the enemy.” She knelt beside the witch. “Are you all right?”
    â€œFine, damn it. Just fine.”
    Moira was bleeding, Anna could smell it, but not a lot. She saw cuts on knees and elbows, but nothing horrible. The horrible thing had nothing to do with the vampire attack.
    Moira’s glasses had been knocked to the pavement and Anna saw what she’d hidden behind them. One eye scarred beyond belief, as if someone had ripped it out with a clawed hand. The other withered like a raisin, a sickly yellowish white raisin.
    Without a word, Anna found the sunglasses—which were unbroken—and put them in Moira’s hand. The witch’s hands shook as she shoved them onto her face, then she steadied.
    Anna understood about shields and the odd shape they sometimes took.
    â€œHe’ll be all right,” Anna said—glad that Moira couldn’t see what Tom looked like. It would be easier to convince her that he would be all right that way. Werewolves were tough.
    â€œCan you shield us from sight? The vampires were doing it—or someone was”—it had felt like pack magic—“and now that they’ve run, it’s gone.” She didn’t know enough about pack magic to do it herself—and it usually required a pack anyway. Her pack, her new pack, was in Aspen Creek, two states away.
    â€œI can manage for a little bit, but you’ll have to tell me if it’s working,” Moira told her, sounding more like the opinionated woman Anna had been spending the day with and less like the scary witch.
    Anna glanced around, but the beheaded vampires’ bodies had turned to ash, either from true death or from Moira’s sunlight—she didn’t know that much about vampires.
    â€œThat will work,” said Tom, though he didn’t make any effort to move. His voice was still growly, and his eyes gleamed yellow in the darkness. “Anna, my cell’s in pieces, and Moira won’t carry one. You need to call for help—I’m not going to be walking anywhere for a few days.”
    Dominant wolves didn’t deal well with injuries like that. Ones that left them vulnerable. Angus’s pack would be set up like most of them. Angus clearly at the head, then two or three near the top, the rest ready to step in when necessary. And Tom had a broken arm, and she was pretty sure there was other damage not immediately obvious.
    â€œYou have a healer, right?” Anna asked.
    â€œAlan Choo,” said Tom. “But you call Charles and tell him to send—”
    Deciding he wasn’t going to budge, she turned to Moira, who’d followed Tom’s voice until she could touch him. From the look on her face, it was a good thing for the vampires that they were either dead or had fled.
    â€œMoira, tell me about Alan Choo.