by Joey W. Hill
“Yeah. Maybe. Do you work tomorrow?”
“No. I can give my whole day to him if you need me to.”
Not just because she cared about Don, but because she’d probably do anything Wolf asked of her. Please go back inside, she thought. Please, please, please, because I can’t keep acting like everything’s fine. She wanted to get up, run across the alley and throw herself in his arms, because she loved the way it felt when he held her, smiled. How he made that stern face while his eyes were so warm and inviting…
She’d stayed so quiet, not because she was hiding, not really, but because the chance to simply watch him was a need she couldn’t deny herself. She didn’t find herself surprised that he knew she was there all along, though. He noticed everything.
He would have made a hell of a cop. As she thought of him in a police uniform, her blood tingled, pretty much everywhere. Yeah, she’d convert to rabid badge bunny in about two blinks.
“Do you think…what do you think will help him? What will it take to fix him?” She remembered what Don had said. Someone needs to fix it, so it makes sense.
“You can’t fix structural failure.” Wolf spoke after a long pause. The words held a startling bitterness. “A bridge breaks, it takes everything down with it.”
“I don’t understand.”
Rising from the table, he pinched out the cigarette, pocketed the butt. Because the streetlight was behind him, she only saw his silhouette, not the details of his expression.
“A lot of therapy is about coping, not cure. We call it accepting, moving on, making the most of your life. But for the worst of the worst, it can only help you anesthetize yourself. When you’ve failed everyone who counted on you, and there’s no going back, there’s no fixing it…a smart man knows that. Won’t be bullshitted or anesthetized. There’s no way to stop the pain. You’ve created hell for yourself while you’re still breathing, and you deserve every minute of it.”
The words were a rusty knife blade, tearing into hope, shredding it. The vehemence behind them chilled her.
“You think Don deserves what he’s experiencing?”
“I’m telling you what he feels, that’s his truth. It’s tough as hell to fix the truth.”
She thought it through. One of the usually more shy cats sniffed her toes, rubbed against the tips of her fingers when she extended them. Sauntering several steps away, he took a seat, giving her a cat stare. The tentative act of trust warmed her, pointing her toward a response.
“No. I’m not buying it.”
Wolf turned, so she saw the outline of his shoulder, the cock of his head. He was dark as the night itself, but she could see him, feel his heat, even at this distance.
“If you thought he was this total shit not worth helping, you wouldn’t. Which means he’s a good guy who got messed up, lost his way. You’re trying to help, and you’re not the only one. He’s coming to see you, so he’s trying to help himself. He hasn’t failed. He’s still trying to figure it out, even if he can’t see that. The bridge may be in bad shape, but it’s still standing. You’re not at the finish line until it’s done.”
He moved forward a couple steps. The light over the alley door had a cloud of nighttime insects dancing and swirling in it. Ella was glad for the illumination because she could see his face. She saw the tiredness, knew his spirit was sick from helping Don. She could help with that.
“May I give you ease, Master?” she asked softly. “You can take me to my massage room and have me do whatever you like. If you just want to lie in there and rest, with me close by, I can do that, too. I can watch over you.”
“Isn’t that my job?” he asked after a moment.
“Yes. After you use me how you desire. Then you take care of me. What do you want, Master?”
In a blink his expression changed, become a little dark and scary. A tremor went through her.
“I want to bury myself in you, Ella. I need to tear every cry from your throat, hear you beg me for everything I give you. I want to be the big, bad wolf.”
Then the light died from his eyes, and his mouth tightened. “What I want from you isn’t fair to your heart and soul, little girl.”
“I am a woman, Master,” she reminded him. “My heart and soul are mine to give, and they are yours. However you need and want them.”
Shadows suffused his face, and he started to say something else. Instead, his attention swiveled sharply at the same moment Barnaby’s ears flickered toward the pile of garbage bags next to the dumpster.
Ella was going to reassure Wolf, tell him it was likely just one of the cats burrowed down in the nest the bags formed, but then the movement became too disruptive to be made by a cat. She heard a groan, like someone waking up, followed by a raw smoker’s cough. Immediately she relaxed.
“Perry,” she mouthed to Wolf, and the tension left his stance as well.
Wolf had never met Perry, but she was sure he’d heard other Atlantis staff members talk about him. One of the homeless regulars in the area, Perry wasn’t old, maybe forty, though a life on the streets had given him an extra decade in appearance. As he moved out of the cocoon the bags had provided him, Ella had to discreetly breathe out of her mouth. Even from this distance his odor reached her, and he smelled particularly foul tonight, a mix of old urine and food trash. Plus an acrid scent that suggested he’d been sprayed by one of the cats while he slept off his latest drunk. There was stale alcohol in the mix, confirming it. In comparison, Don was as fresh smelling as one of those mountain breeze detergents.
She wondered if Perry had overheard their conversation, and suspected not, since he often seemed in his own head, and looked as if he’d just woken up. Just as well. Not that she was ashamed of anything she’d said, but it had been private, meant for one man’s ears. A man who, once he’d sized Perry up, was now back to giving her a look that said as soon as they had the opportunity, he was going to do exactly as he’d implied to her.
Which gave her every incentive to handle this as quickly as possible. “Good evening, Perry,” she said. “You want some food? I can go into the kitchen and get you some.”
“That’d be kind, honey,” he said, coughing the gravel out of his voice as he shuffled away from the dumpster. “If you find a few bottles half finished, you could bring them out. Man’s gotta have something to drink with his meal.”
She shook her head at him, but gave him a smile to take the sting out of her response. “You know I can’t do that. But I’ll bring you food.”
As Wolf studied the male, she saw he’d noticed the dog tags clinking against Perry’s chest. Anwyn always showed compassion to homeless people, helping them with food, shower facilities, changes of clothing, and a trip to the local shelter if she could talk them into it. If not, she’d let them sleep in the alley under the relative safety of the security cameras, as long as they were kind to the cats and didn’t repay her kindness by loitering around the front during open hours, begging her patrons for money.
Ella saw the brief flash of compassion and painful understanding in Wolf’s eyes. Perry turned his gaze to him, a little wary, as most people were at Wolf’s size and demeanor. Wolf shook his head.
“I’m not going to cause you any problems, man. A friend of Ella’s is a friend of mine.”
“She’s a good girl,” Perry responded. He swiped his hand across his nose, eyeing Wolf. “You got another of the cancer sticks?”
Yeah, she was definitely heading in. Even before she’d learned Wolf was an occasional smoker, she’d sometimes detected the tobacco scent on him. Fortunately, it wasn’t a frequent enough habit that it detracted from his overall good smell, since she wasn’t overly fond of cigarette odor. The smoke gave her headaches. If the two of them were lighting up, the food was a good excuse to absent herself.
She suspected Wolf would enjoy talking to Perry awhile anyway. He could come find her after his second session if he still wanted…what he’d described. She hoped he did, but she’d put it aside if needed.
>
“Sure.” At Perry’s request for a cigarette, Wolf drew out two and put them to his lips. As he did, he dug into his pocket for his lighter.
The homeless man eagerly moved his way. Ella sighed and rose.
Her intention was to cross between them, the shortest route to the door, and give them both a friendly nod before she disappeared.
Instead, a sharp feeling of foreboding bloomed in her chest, halting her in her tracks. Her head snapped toward Perry. Wolf still had his head down, lighting the cigarette. Ten steps away, Perry’s eyes had gone needle sharp, back straightening like steel pipe as he reached inside his clothes with a practiced smoothness.
“Wolf.”
She ran at Perry as she shouted it, not sure what she knew, only that something was suddenly really, really wrong. The instinct to protect flooded her mind, leaving only time for action. And not enough even for that.
Wolf’s head came up so fast, it looked like someone had hit the fast forward button on reality. She didn’t see him move, but she was between him and Perry, and then suddenly she wasn’t. She was surrounded by hard muscle, and the world exploded.
The roar of noise that hit her ears lanced through them, into her brain, the pain overwhelming. She was airborne. Thunder vibrated through her bones like a struck gong. Startled cats squalled. Metal, wood, and other, terrible, fleshy wet things struck her skin. She screamed when fire licked close, but then it was gone with a blast of terrible heat, a wind carrying them away from it.
She landed on the pavement with a grunt of pain and another frightened cry, snatched away when the breath was driven out of her. Wolf was on top of her, two hundred plus pounds of muscle forcing her into the unyielding surface. Yet she heard his expulsion of breath, and felt something she’d never forget – the twisting and shuddering of his body as things tore into his flesh. Things that would have torn into hers, if he hadn’t been wrapped around her as tightly as a caterpillar’s cocoon.
She cried out his name, or tried, but she couldn’t breathe or move, a terrible, helpless feeling. They skidded, rolled, and then came to a stop. Wolf’s arms were still locked around her, tight, too tight. Self-preservation had her pulling on him, to tell him she couldn’t breathe, she needed to breathe. His grip at last loosened, and she was able to wriggle free of the weight of his limp body on her.
Everything was muffled, hard to hear, as if it were far away, but that heat and the choking smoke, laden with dust, told her otherwise. She put her shirt up to her mouth, which helped a little.
Wolf. Oh my God… The words were there but now couldn’t make it past her clogged throat. He was on his face and not conscious, his nose and mouth mashed to the concrete. His back. Oh Goddess…he had no back, just a mass of blood. Already feeling weak and close to passing out, she came even closer to oblivion as she thought she saw his spine, glistening among raw, bleeding flesh.
He was dead. He had protected her with his life.
“Son of a bitch.” When the walls of the club shuddered like an earthquake had hit Atlanta, Gideon was up and out the door of the meeting room, the rest of the executive security team, including Stan, on his heels.
“What was that? A fucking earthquake?” Stan demanded.
Gideon already knew what it was. It wasn’t a natural disaster. He wished it was.
As they emerged into the hallway, they could already see the rubble ahead, the smoke. Fuck, the security offices and the accounting area, both of which had people in them. He snatched his radio from his belt to reach the front security desk, and got Rick.
“Don’t evacuate until we know what we’re dealing with,” Gideon said sharply. “Don’t let a single fucking person leave. Tell them this may not be over and they’re safer inside. If they insist, make sure you log who they are. Otherwise, get everybody into the main bar area.”
The main bar was in the center of the building, farthest from the danger of any other external explosions. It also had several exit options, once they knew which exits were clear.
Gideon wouldn’t automatically assume this was vampire-related, but he would react to it like it was. Vampire hunters had the same M.O. as any other group trained to kill for a cause. Maximum body count in the smallest amount of time.
“You got it,” Rick responded. “Nine one one’s been called. Front entrance is clear and I had Tony go take a look. Looks like whatever happened originated in the alley.”
The alley. Ella was in the alley. Plus all those cats Anwyn loved. If they hadn’t all scattered before the blast, with that sixth sense for danger some animals had. But some didn’t.
“Call the mobile vet Anwyn uses,” Gideon barked. “We may need them.”
“Already on it, boss,” Rick responded. They’d gone over that in risk assessment, because the cats were part of Atlantis’s family, too.
“Was Ella still in the alley?”
“Yeah. Not just her.” Rick’s voice was tight, making Gideon’s heart clutch with dread. “Wolf and a homeless guy. Perry, I think. It happened pretty quick after he showed up.”
Gideon exchanged a glance with Stan. They skidded to a halt with Stan’s two other guys when they hit the wall of smoke and dust. Building materials were piled at their feet, wiring hanging and sparking from the torn ceiling.
Well, at least they knew the side door wasn’t booby trapped for any responders, since the door wasn’t fucking there anymore. Then Gideon felt Anwyn’s touch, a riffling of air from her passing, and knew she’d joined them, heading out into the alleyway at faster-than-the-human-eye speed. Which meant there must be a hole blown in the wall, concealed by the smoke, big enough for her to use.
She’d heard Rick’s report in Gideon’s head. She knew they couldn’t let anyone get to Wolf before them. If Wolf was alive. Blowing a vampire into pieces was pretty much as effective as a stake through the heart.
“Get to the front,” he told Stan. “Help keep everyone contained in the main bar, guard that front door. Have someone ready to direct the first responders. Leave Jonas and Nevin here to check the offices for wounded. They can radio you with a status to send back the responders and fire guys, for whatever they need to get the wounded clear. I’ll get to the alley from this side.”
Stan gave him a measured look, but nodded, sparing Gideon any of the sensible precautions about waiting for the first responders to clear the scene. He knew better than to waste his time. Plus, Gideon was counting on the police needing to do that before letting anyone into the alley. That would give him and Anwyn time to do what they needed to do for Wolf. With any luck.
Ella…Christ. He could get to Ella faster this way, too. He waited only as long as needed for Stan to head away from him, Nevin and Jonas proceeding toward the accounting and security offices. Then Gideon plunged into the smoke.
He used his speed, strength and enhanced third mark senses to avoid hazards and find the same hole Anwyn had. He couldn’t move faster than a vampire, but he could move far quicker than an unmarked human.
He hated this fucking alley, especially at this moment, because the scent of blood that reached his nose recalled the night he and Daegan had found Anwyn here. Her body ravaged by rogue vamps, her skin already feverish and hot because they’d turned her even as they raped her.
He forced himself to focus on what was happening right now. The bomb had been a powerful one, taking out most of the alley wall of Atlantis, and blowing the dumpster into the wall of the vending machine distributor who was their immediate neighbor. Fortunately, it appeared to have damaged the outer wall, but not made it all the way through.
Gideon. Anwyn’s voice in his mind, urgent. He headed toward her. He stepped over several body parts, just bloody meat, but he didn’t look close. If he recognized anything of Ella, he might lose it. His toe hooked on a set of crimson-stained dog tags, and his heart stopped, until he remembered Wolf never wore any.
He found Anwyn on her knees, her face hard and set, hands on a bloody slab he realized with a sharp jab to the gut was Wol
f. Next to him in a crumpled heap was Ella, her dark hair coated with a dampness that had turned the dust to mud. He worried that the wetness was her blood, but at least she was awake, and alive. Her clothes were filthy, torn, exposed skin coated with a white-gray film, making her unsettlingly ghost-like.
Then her eyes jerked to him, wild and wide. She’d worn green contacts today, the brilliant color jarringly out of place in this smoky, dust-choked world.
She mouthed Gideon’s name, and the words came out as an unintelligible croak, either because her throat was choked with smoke and dust, or because it was burned. But she was sitting up and alive, so they had a bigger priority.
“He needs blood, now,” Anwyn said. “Before we move him. He’s still alive, but it’s a close thing. Nothing fatal seems to have penetrated his heart, but it’s vulnerable.”
Yeah, hard to blast the skin and muscle away and not jostle the internal organs. Gideon forced his stomach not to turn at the sight and jerked up the sleeve of his shirt. Daegan might have something to say about it, because they all knew giving blood to a vamp who wasn’t your Master or Mistress could cause some problems. However, Anwyn’s expression was more Club Atlantis boss than vampire. She wanted Wolf protected, and truth, so did Gideon.
Ella made a noise and Anwyn looked down. Wolf was moving, reaching blindly, body shifting, shuddering. Ella had propped herself on one arm, and it was near his head. Blood was running from a cut in her upper arm. Wolf’s hand closed over her wrist.
“Hey man, no. She’s hurt.” Gideon moved to separate them, as gingerly as possible, but Anwyn stopped him.
“He shielded her from the worst of it,” she said. “She’s got a few cuts. I think mostly she’s suffering mild shock.”
In her former life, Anwyn had been an emergency room nurse, so her “I think” held more weight than his layperson first aid training. Still, Gideon shot her a sharp glance. Anwyn met it with one that contained more than one message. There was no time.
