Chapter 77: 77: A Duel In Shadow

GRAYSON

I could barely bring myself to breathe. Panic speared the walls of my throat, clogging my windpipe.

If this was what the force field had done to Kyle when it was restored…then what had it done to the hundreds of pack members stationed along the border?

They were all within the area where the force field would have materialized.

“A pity,” a familiar voice said behind me. “Your beta was an irritating nuisance, but it was never my intention to kill him.”

I stood and snapped around to face the owner of the voice.

It was no surprise that Azazel Mortar stood before me, dressed casually in black slacks and a matching black button-up shirt.

His cocky grin showed off his pointed fangs, and his vivid red eyes seemed to glow ominously in the dark.

“Casualties of war, I suppose,” Azazel continued, his menacing grin expanding over the pale skin of his face. He spoke cheerfully as if he were engaging in good-natured conversation with an old friend.

All-consuming fury raced through me, taking over my every thought, my eyesight going red with crazed and fervid rage.

Azazel Mortar had just successfully killed my beta along with an unknowable number of my pack members. He had taken control of my body for months and tortured my mate.

He had made us all live in fear of him and his next move, wondering every day if it would be the one in which he would achieve his goal and finally take the throne.

But not anymore. Tonight, he would pay for his sins. Tonight, Azazel Mortar was a dead man.

With a roar, I sprang forward, advancing in a flash.

I reached for him with extended claws, intent on ripping out his organs, his tongue, and his eyes. Never his jugular though. Or his heart. No, that would be too easy.

His death would not be quick or painless—it would be excruciating and gruesome.

I would make sure he felt it when I broke each one of his bones before tearing both his arms from his body at an agonizingly slow speed and then did the same with his legs.

I wanted him to know what it was like to have his blood run from his open wounds and pool around his body, knowing he was helpless to do anything to stop it,

The same way I had felt when I watched Kyle’s blood pool around him mere moments ago.

But then, just as I was about to reach Azazel, my fingers barely brushing over the fabric of his shirt, he was gone, no longer in front of me. I whirled around with another livid roar.

His dark chuckle did little to inform of his location. It sounded like he was everywhere, coming from every direction.

“Did you really think I would make it that easy, Alpha Grayson?” Azazel said, his tone mocking as his voice boomed from all around me.

He was everywhere but nowhere. His physical form was nowhere to be found.

I bared my teeth. “Come out and face me, Azazel.”

Another chuckle. “Oh, I plan to.”

The sound of rustling could be heard behind me, and I immediately turned. Azazel was leaning against a tree with his arms crossed over his chest, that infuriating smile still tugging at his lips.

I lunged for him once again and was able to reach him this time.

I had no idea how he’d managed to evade my attack from before, but it didn’t matter because I was already plunging my claws into his stomach. His red eyes widened as I began to twist them into his flesh.

And then, just like that, he was gone again. My hand was still flexed, still covered in his blood, but there was no longer anyone in front of me. I looked around in confusion.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” Azazel tutted. “And here I was, thinking we had a real connection.”

I realized with a start that he was beside me now, a few feet away, watching me gleefully. And, despite my just plunging my clawed hand into his gut, he seemed to be completely unharmed.

His clothes were just as orderly as they were before, and no blood stained the fabric of his shirt.

My molars ground together. “What game are you playing, Mortar?” I demanded.

I took a slow step toward him, determined to keep him in my line of vision this time, but was abruptly stopped by another voice—~Azazel’s~ voice, but coming from the other side of me now.

“After all those months spent sharing the same body, nearly the same consciousness, I truly had started to feel like I knew you. I may have even started to respect you.”

While this new version of Azazel—the version of him who had just spoken—stepped forward, the one I had just been looking at was still standing to my right, watching me.

My gaze snapped back and forth between both of them. There were two of him. Two copies of the same man standing right in front of me.

“It hurts, really.” His voice suddenly came from behind me. I whirled around, only to find another Azazel approaching, making the new count three.

There were three Azazel Mortars surrounding me. “It hurts that you’re so set on killing me,” this third version continued with a sad shake of his head.

“Although, I suppose I intend to do the same,” the version to my left said.

“My brother did always call me a hypocrite,” the Azazel at my right said. “I gather he was right.”

My attention snapped between all of them, my neck straining to keep them all in my line of sight as I realized that any one of them could attack the moment my back was turned and I faced another.

This was nearly an impossible task—especially when I heard multiple pairs of footsteps rustling the forest floor, and countless Azazel Mortars stepped out of the shadows of the trees, surrounding me.

At least forty of him formed a large circle around me, all of them sporting the same outfit, the same psychotic smile, the same bright red eyes.

Magic. It was the only explanation. Azazel was using some sort of magic to make multiple copies of himself. But I already knew that none of the versions surrounding me were the real him.

And if my theory was correct, harming these duplicates would do nothing to the real him.

I could kill them, yes—just as I had just killed the second Azazel that had appeared in front of me—but a new clone would undoubtedly appear in its place, uninjured and grinning at me.

Deciding to put my theory to the test, I shot my hand out and, using pure force, sank it into the chest of the Azazel closest to me, not hesitating to wrap it around his heart.

It was extremely satisfying to watch fear take over his expression as he realized my intentions—to rip his heart straight from his chest.

But before I got the chance to bring his miserable life to an end, he vanished into thin air, gone just like that. My hand formed a fist around nothing, still covered in his blood.

“That wasn’t very nice,” a new version of Azazel said, appearing in front of me in the same spot where the old one had stood.

His plan was clear. He recognized that he would have never been able to kill me on his own. We both knew I was bigger, faster, and stronger.

He would stand no chance, especially with the army of werewolves and vampires that I had on my side.

But he had taken care of any help I would have been able to ask for by killing all of the warriors near me when he somehow managed to put the force field back up.

He knew that I would guard my borders with the best of my pack members. I had no way of knowing about the horror that would take place when the force field was put back.

I fell for his trick and had the blood of countless of my people on my hands to show for it.

Now, though, he could face me without any members of my pack coming to aid me. I could mind-link for help, but it would take them too long to get here.

I was at the edge of Zaweth, a half-hour sprint in wolf form from the main part of the kingdom. And Azazel knew that. He was going to make this as quick as possible.

It all made sense. One version of Azazel I could handle. Hell, even fifty of him would be a walk in the park.

But it was when all of those versions of him became virtually indestructible—simply reappearing completely unharmed, the moment I killed them—that things started to get a little dicey for me.

But luckily for me, I saw the only flaw in his plan.

I knew he wasn’t capable of achieving this level of magic on his own, just like how I knew he wasn’t capable of taking down the borders of Zaweth on his own. He was using warlock magic.

It was why I would bet my life that Gulius Mallor was somewhere nearby at this very moment, aiding Azazel in his attempt to take over the throne.

And wherever Gulius was, the real version of Azazel had to be too—someone had to be telling Gulius what to do, when to put the force field back up, and when to make new clones.

Both Azazel and Gulius had to be somewhere close—close enough to watch what was happening.

And, if I had to guess, Gulius was probably using magic to keep them hidden behind some invisible curtain and to mask their scents.

But if I could find Gulius and kill him, all magic would stop and I would be able to end Azazel’s pathetic life without any more obstacles.

But I would have to make it through Azazel’s indestructible clones in order to do that. That was the part that might prove to be a little difficult.

I had a very small window of time to figure out where Gulius was before Azazel made his clones attack. If I could just keep Azazel talking, I might be able to find him before it was too late.

There was no such thing as real invisibility. It might be hard to spot at times, but every invisible force field had a glimmer, a barely visible iridescent quality.

If I could find that glimmer, then I would find Azazel.

“I’m impressed, Azazel,” I said in a low tone. “Leave it to you to figure out the only way to actually kill me without risking your life or doing any dirty work.”

I scanned the many versions of his face that surrounded me, looking for any sign of glimmering magic while I spoke. “You truly are a coward through and through.”

I hoped the coward comment would get to him. And it did. In sync, each one of the faces around dropped into a tight sneer.

“What you call cowardice, I refer to as good judgment,” Azazel’s voice snapped back. “I will not be known as the fool who died because he thought he could take on Alpha Grayson Stoll.”

My brows rose. “Clones or no clones, that title is nevertheless destined to be yours. Make no mistake, Azazel. You ~will~ die today. At ~my~ hands.”

The clones bared their fangs at me. I was running out of time and still had to find where Gulius was hiding the real Azazel. He was going to attack at any moment.

I was proven correct when several of the clones advanced on me without warning, using their vampire speed to move faster than I was able to comprehend. But I was fast too.

I shifted into my wolf before they could reach me and tore through the first clone with my teeth.

The second and third were taken care of just as quickly, my own vampire speed proving to be very effective on top of my werewolf abilities.

I was able to hold my own for a while.

But they just kept coming, throwing themselves on me until I had thirty or more—it was hard to tell—on top of me, tearing into my flesh with their teeth and claws the same way I was tearing into them with my own.

My priority was keeping them away from my jugular. Azazel hadn’t provided his clones with any weapons, so they only had their fangs and nails to help them.

They would try to go for my neck because it would be the quickest and easiest way to kill me. I couldn’t let that happen.

Before I had the chance to kick them off, two clones bit into my leg at the same time, ripping into my muscle, wrenching a chunk out with their teeth, and spitting it on the ground.

I howled in pain as my leg gave out from beneath me and forced me down.

I tried to get up while still trying to focus on limiting their access to my throat, but two more clones did the same to my other leg, and I fell to the ground once more.

I... I was losing. In less than thirty seconds, Azazel had me pinned to the forest floor. His clones piled onto me, and I was quickly becoming helpless to stop them.

Even if I did somehow manage to keep them from piercing my jugular, his teeth and claws were tearing into me all over my body. I would soon be losing too much blood.

Then a miracle happened. At the same moment a loud yell could be heard in the distance, each and every one of Azazel’s clones froze.

They became unmoving statues on top of me, some with their teeth still lodged into my skin, others dropping to the ground mid-jump.

Although confused, I wasn’t complaining. I continued to fight them off of me, finding it much easier to do now that they weren’t fighting back.

I had barely gotten half of them away from me when, without warning, they all simply... disappeared.

Yes, that’s right—all of the clones vanished from on top of me and around me, almost as if they had never been there at all to begin with.

I wasted no time in standing and taking another fighting stance. I wasn’t a fool. This had to be a trick. Why would Azazel simply give up in the middle of a fight?

Then I heard the sound that made my blood run cold. The terrified voice of my mate, screaming my name. “~Grayson!~”