“I need you to hold on,” I said, making eye contact with Tina, trying to urge her to work quickly. She’d gone almost as pale as Conrad, but her expression was set, determined. She didn’t hesitate but shifted her reach to Conrad’s leg.
Now we had to lift at the same time.
I got a grip under Conrad’s shoulders and pulled. He screamed. Would it be gauche of me to knock him unconscious to shut him up?
“They’re going to find us,” Tina muttered. “Between the bomb and his screaming, they’ll find us.” She lay stretched out beside me, clutching the fabric of his pants and guiding the limb off its skewer.
“As soon as he’s up, we’ll run,” I said, gritting my teeth. At least, we’d run as well as we could. Conrad’s grip was starting to hurt, but at least he wasn’t thrashing. I thought he might thrash with panic, but maybe he was going limp from blood loss.
“Got it!” Tina called finally, and I fell back with my final effort, Conrad secure in my arms. He was breathing fast, hyperventilating.
“Conrad, hush, breathe slow. Slower.” I spoke softly, calmly, even though my own heart was racing in my ears, my hair standing on end, my own panic about to burst. This was just like talking down a panicking werewolf. I could handle this.
Tina pulled out a jackknife, cut away the lower half of his pants, and made two bandages of it, tying them tight around the entry and exit wounds.
“Conrad, can you stand?”
He was still gasping for breath, gulping for air. “I don’t know, I don’t know.”
Tina and I didn’t have to talk. She took one of his arms over her shoulder, I took the other, and we hauled him. He let out a yelp, and I hissed at him to shut up. Not that it mattered at this point.
“Where?” Tina asked.
I nodded toward the lake. So far, all the traps had been around the lodge and the trails leading to it. If we went somewhere else, yet stuck to the edge of the forest, we might find a safe place to hunker down. If we did, I’d leave these two there and go for help.
My night vision was good enough to lead the way. Moving among the trees, we put distance between us and the tiger trap. Conrad managed to pull himself together, keeping himself upright on one leg, hopping painfully on the other. That only meant we weren’t dragging his feet behind us anymore. With every breath he whimpered, but he was obviously trying to keep quiet.
Ahead, a clearing opened up, a brighter space of open sky and moonlight shining down. The pewter gray surface of the lake shone, maybe a dozen yards away.
“Let’s rest for a minute,” I whispered, coming to a stop by the trunk of a wide old pine tree. Tina and Conrad slumped against it beside me, and we lowered him to the ground. He pulled his legs close, hugging the injured one, rocking. The whimpers sounded deep in his chest, suppressed.
I squeezed his shoulder. “Conrad? Conrad? How are you?” Really stupid question. I didn’t know how else to pull him out of himself. I needed him lucid.
He pushed himself up so he was almost sitting. He was shaking. Tina braced him, and he managed to stay upright.
“I’m sorry,” he said, panting. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”
He’d entered the raving stage. Now we had to dodge the hunters and get an incapacitated man to safety.
Tina was crying. I hadn’t even noticed, but tears streaked her face. She hadn’t made a sound. Stress, or her own brand of panic, I didn’t know what. I touched her hand.
“He thinks he’s dying,” she said. “He’s praying.”
I slouched against the tree, one hand on Tina’s arm, the other on Conrad’s shoulder. I looked through the last of the forest to the lake, so calm and beautiful in the crisp night air. Silver lined everything.
What had Anastasia said? Werewolves were pack animals. We were always banding together to fight, to take care of each other. I felt that now. We’d banded together, and now I felt like it was up to me to take care of these two. I didn’t have a clue how to do that.
Part of me wanted to wait here for someone to find us, to rescue us, but we couldn’t do that, because Provost would likely find us first. We were dead just sitting here. That was what Cormac would say: keep moving.
The smell of blood from Conrad’s wound was overpowering. This sent a blaze of warning to the Wolf side—that much blood was like a beacon to predators saying we were hurt, vulnerable, easy pickings—
But human hunters wouldn’t be able to smell it. We had a little time. Settle down.
I’d brought my cell phone but still didn’t get reception. Probably another ten to twenty miles before we’d get close. We couldn’t haul Conrad that far, and if we didn’t get him stationary and hydrated, he’d die of blood loss before that. The lodge was maybe three miles away. We could defend ourselves better there than we could in the open.
“We have to go back,” I said.
Conrad looked up, focused a moment. So he was lucid and paying attention. Good. “Do we have to?”
“We can’t stay in the open,” I said.
“We’re safer with the others,” Tina said. Conrad nodded. Maybe he was ready to be a team player. “Should we try to wash his leg off in the lake?”
I shook my head. “Stuff’s not clean enough. We’ll use bottled water at the lodge.” Be optimistic—we’d get back just fine. “Conrad, you ready?”
He made a sound, half sob, half chuckle. “No. But that’s okay.”
“That’s the spirit,” I said. Tina and I gathered ourselves, hoisted Conrad over our shoulders, and set off.
We made more noise than I was comfortable with, pushing around shrubs, shuffling through debris on the forest floor. Conrad couldn’t stay quiet, and I couldn’t force him to. He was doing well, considering. I tried to turn my hearing outward, searching for sounds and smells of approaching danger, and couldn’t sense anything. I couldn’t let it get to me. Just had to press forward. We’d take a break outside the lodge; I’d scout for Cabe and Provost and get in touch with the others.
Progress was slow. It would take us a couple of hours at least. We had to keep stopping to rearrange our grip on Conrad, to let him rest. Tina and I were both dripping sweat, despite the cool air. We had only just reached the edge of the lake when the hairs on my neck started prickling. Like fur, like hackles rising. The undeniable sense of being followed. Of walking into danger.
I pulled the others to a stop and waved her to silence when Tina started to speak. Conrad’s head lolled; he’d been drifting in and out of consciousness. I propped them both against a tree and took a few steps away, to get a taste of air that didn’t have so much blood, sweat, and fear in it.
A hint of breeze gave me a scent that bowled me over. I crouched, nose up, taking it in, trying to figure out what it meant. This was wild. Musk wild, without a hint of human to it. Wolf whined; my hands clenched.
The smell of blood had attracted predators.
A wolf stepped out of the trees in front of me. Tail stiff, head down, amber eyes glaring. Earthen gray and brown fur, standing on end. Lip curled, showing teeth.
And all I could think was, he looked so small. Because he wasn’t a lycanthrope.
I knelt, face-to-face with a natural, wild wolf.
chapter 18
Montana had wild wolves. I knew that. I just hadn’t thought about it. I hadn’t thought that I would ever encounter one.
Make that five. Four more came into view, another one ahead, the others to each side of me. Two females, two more males. I could smell them, the differences—I recognized the scents, even though it seemed so wrong. They were various shades of brown and gray, pale on their bellies, tails tipped with black. They smelled like a pack. Like a family. But not mine.
I had never seen wolves in the wild before. I hadn’t even seen one in a zoo since I’d become a lycanthrope. Zoo smells of musk and far too many creatures crammed into too small a space were more than my sensitive nose could handle. Kind of like this. So wild, and so alien. I almost howled for real, because I could feel
the need to Change, Wolf writhing within me. Face wolves as a wolf, it was the only way. But I breathed slow, hugged myself, pulled the need inside.
“Kitty,” Tina whispered. She’d spotted them, too.
I held my hand out, stopping her. “You two, stay up. Stay standing, stay tall, tall as you can.”
Real, wild wolves. They seemed agitated—and who could blame them, with the recent explosion and all sorts of crazies tromping through their territory. They were looking at me. Circling me, studying me. I could read it—the body language was the same. The wary stance, hackles straight up, this waiting to see what I would do. The readiness to defend themselves. They weren’t sure if we were prey or something else. They waited for me to reply.
My eyes were wide, my heart racing—I felt like prey, and they were sizing me up. But I didn’t know what to do.
Yes, you do, the lupine voice within me whispered. Look away, don’t stare at them, lower your head, slouch. Tell them you aren’t a threat. On all fours now, I did that. Turned my shoulder to them. Held my back as if I had a lowered tail. Kept my gaze down. I whispered to Tina, “Don’t look at them. Look down.”
To a predator, a stare was a challenge. I didn’t stare. I couldn’t see what Tina was doing. Not panicking, I hoped.
I put myself between Tina, Conrad, and the wolves. They’d smelled blood—injured prey. They were just following instincts. They’d try to get around Tina and me and get to Conrad. If we were deer, that was what they’d do. I let Wolf seep into my being, as much as I could without shifting, until the world wavered to gray wolf-sight, and I smelled my own fur. Maybe they would smell it, too, and not think us so different than them. With every hair of Wolf’s being, I tried to tell them, We don’t want trouble, we’re not invading. Just passing through. But you can’t have the sick one, he’s ours, our pack. Mine. Let us pass. No trouble here.
We were invaders. They’d have every right to attack. But maybe this was just odd enough that they’d pass us by.
The larger male, the one I’d first seen, stood front and center, watching me. The others had broken their stances, were padding back and forth, noses to ground, tails out like rudders. Waiting for the alpha male’s signal. The leader stayed still. One of the females sidled up to him, bumped him, licked his chin. I could almost hear her saying to him, This is too strange, not worth the trouble, let’s leave.
His mate. An old married couple working it out. God, I wanted to see Ben so badly.
I met the big male’s gaze once, then lowered my face again. If that didn’t offer him peace and ask him for safe passage, nothing would. He wasn’t moving, and I knew what that meant.
“We have to leave,” I said, slowly rising to my feet and joining the others. “He won’t turn his back on us, so we need to be the ones to move.”
“But what if they come after us?” Tina’s voice was taut; she was right on the edge.
“They won’t,” I said.
“You can’t actually talk to them, can you?”
I sort of could. I let her draw her own conclusion.
With Conrad over our shoulders again, we moved off, as quickly as we could, into the trees and back toward the lodge. I glanced over my shoulder once; the wolves were watching us, the male in the center of them all. But he was sitting now, his fur flat, relaxed almost. Not getting ready to run and launch an attack. One of them flopped to her side and started licking a paw. They weren’t going to come after us. But this was definitely their space.
My nerves were tingling. Tina kept asking questions—“What was that? What the hell happened there?”—and I couldn’t answer. I couldn’t talk.
“Kitty!” she finally said, almost a shriek, and I looked at her. Her eyes widened in fear. I don’t know what face I showed her, but it probably wasn’t quite human. Something wolfish glared in my eyes.
I closed my eyes, shook my head, breathed slow. Told Wolf to settle.
We’re in danger.
I know.
Must flee.
It’s not that simple.
We kept moving.
chapter 19
We rested three more times. Conrad had fallen unconscious by the time we reached the clearing in front of the lodge. There, we stopped again. The house and everything around it looked quiet. I wanted to know what was going on before we moved any closer.
The shadows had changed, growing more washed-out, more surreal. The sky had paled—close to sunrise. Dawn had sneaked up on me. When was the last time I’d slept? After I’d shifted yesterday? I couldn’t remember how long ago that had been. The gray predawn sky didn’t improve the hazy fuzz I seemed to be moving through.
“I’m going to go to the house to find Grant,” I said, leaving Tina and Conrad sitting at the edge of the clearing in front of the lodge. Not much cover here. I moved along the edge, slow and watchful, taking deep breaths. Nothing smelled out of the ordinary. I didn’t dare call out to Grant, in case an enemy was close by and listening.
I felt like I had a target painted on my forehead. I scratched it, then felt like an idiot for doing so.
I’d reached the porch railing when Grant cracked the door and stepped outside. He’d been keeping watch.
“Kitty.”
I didn’t know where to start. “We’ve got Conrad. He’s hurt, badly.”
“I heard what sounded like an explosion—did you find the blind?”
I swallowed, a gulp of air, of courage. “We did. It was booby-trapped. We lost Lee.”
He nodded and followed me out to where Tina waited with Conrad. The three of us brought him inside and lay him on one of the sofas. Tina and I collapsed. Grant handed us bottles of water, then looked at Conrad’s wounds.
The big picture window in the living room was growing light enough to see by. I sat up.
“Where are Anastasia and Gemma? It’s almost daylight.”
“They’re not back yet,” Grant said.
Shit. “Should we go look for them? Have you gotten any word back from them?”
Now Tina was sitting up, frowning, worried. “Jeffrey—”
I scrambled up, no longer bone tired. An adrenaline-fueled second wind pushed me. “We have to go look for them.”
Nodding at Conrad, Grant said, “Tina, can you look after him?”
“I want to go, I want to help find him—”
“Someone has to stay here,” Grant said. “If we lose the lodge to the hunters, we’ve lost everything.”
She nodded and sat, clasping her hands. Her hair was limp, in need of a wash, pushed behind her ears. Her shirt and jeans were streaked with dirt and blood—Conrad’s blood was all over both of us. Dark circles shadowed her eyes. I wondered if I looked that wrung out.
“We’ll find him,” I said, trying to sound hopeful. Had to stay hopeful.
Grant and I went outside. At the edge of the porch, I tipped my nose up and tested the air. I smelled the forest, the outdoors, like I always did, but I wanted to smell people. Vampires. Their cold, undead blood should have stood out among all this life.
“Find anything?” Grant asked me.
“Not yet.” I stepped forward, all my senses firing.
I heard running. Not caring about stealth, someone crashed through the trees toward us.
“Someone’s coming. Jeffrey,” I said as he broke out of the trees and joined us in the clearing.
“Thank God,” he said, gasping to catch his breath. He was sweat soaked. No telling how long he’d been running. “They’ve trapped Gemma, we need you.”
Jeffrey led us back the way he’d come, about a mile through the woods around the lodge, to the edge of the meadow. He explained on the way, as well as he could around the hard breathing. We were all running on adrenaline by this point.
“We found the blind, a camouflaged tent full of equipment and weapons. We broke up as much of it as we could, scattered the ammunition, hid the weapons in the underbrush. There were silver bullets, silver arrows, stakes, crosses, bottles of what we think were h
oly water. And a cage. No sign of Cabe or Provost.
“We were on our way back to the lodge when something—it was like an explosion. Too loud for a gunshot. It—it was a harpoon. I can’t think of how else to describe it. It was automated. Anastasia said there wasn’t anybody around, she would have sensed them if they were. But it got Gemma. It was a harpoon on a line and it dragged her into this… this cage.” He was half jogging, half limping now, holding his side. His face twisted in pain. He’d better not have a heart attack on us.
He said, “They could have just staked her, but they didn’t. They waited, and they triggered this… this thing. This trap.”
We arrived and saw what he meant. Gemma was trapped in a cage, just tall enough to stand up in, just wide enough to grip both sides with her hands. Sheltered out of sight by a tree, it was portable, maybe set here only in the last day or so the way the grass under it was recently crushed. Steel and heavy, it would hold lions. A winch welded to the back had reeled in Gemma, who struggled against a harpoon sticking out of her right shoulder. The whole thing could have been automated, set on a trigger, operated by remote—we’d seen that the hunters had cameras and monitors set up. They could have moved their base since Grant interrogated Valenti. But as Jeffrey had said, they could have staked her just as easily as trapping her with harmless—to her—steel. This trap had a different purpose.
The cage was at the edge of the open meadow, and sunrise had begun. A band of full sunlight crept toward us across the grass.
Anastasia was talking Gemma down. Gemma herself gritted her teeth and threw herself against the barbed spike in her shoulder.
“Gemma, darling, stay calm. Don’t struggle. Don’t thrash.”
The younger vampire closed her eyes and settled, nodding in agreement.
Anastasia reached through the cage and held the spike, where it protruded from her back. “We’ll work it out of you. Carefully, now.”
Gemma eased herself forward, leaning against the spike, rolling her shoulder a little, struggling against the barb. Anastasia braced it still. I heard the wet, meaty sound of ripping flesh.
Kitty's House of Horrors Page 19
