Flock of Wolves

by Emily Kimelman

  My breath stopped. The soldier loomed behind her. I was about to watch Sydney Rye's mother die.

  Blood exploded from the man's chest. He looked down at it, confused, before falling to his knees and tipping over, apparently dead.

  April scrambled to her feet and looked around, trying to find the killer. No savior appeared. April's attention fell onto the Isis soldier's Kalashnikov, and she picked it up, her spine straightening and a smile pulling at her mouth. April Madden leapt off the stage into the chaotic crowd, disappearing off screen.

  The camera caught the dust, fire, and smoke of war. The stage remained empty except for the young woman's body—deathly still in a world swirling with horror—every living person who passed the camera trying to avoid her fate.

  The crowd shifted and all began to run in one direction, away from the square, away from where the Butcher had run. Away from the Miracle Woman.

  A dog entered the frame, a giant mastiff, golden with a black muzzle and curled tail.

  "I think they're called Kangals," Dan said.

  He was flicking through his phone. Another dog appeared, a third, and then I saw Blue…Sydney Rye walking next to him. His head even with her waist, he was almost as broad as the mastiffs he moved with. Blue's nose tapped against Sydney's hip. She leapt onto the stage, the dog's circling around her—watching over her, but also herding her—as if she was a sheep, their charge.

  Sydney bent down next to the body and felt for a pulse. Apparently finding none, she rose, and her head jerked toward the camera.

  Those gray eyes pierced right through the lens, and I caught my breath, again. My hand shot out and grab Dan's forearm, squeezing.

  Those eyes.

  She looked desperate. Desperate to survive. Desperate to live. Willing to do anything. She was feral.

  I recognized the look and the emotion behind it.

  The scars on my body lit up as if fresh cigarettes were being ground into my flesh. Memories flashed; my muscle shook as I tightened the chain around my rapist’s neck. Swallowing revulsion, I forced the sensations in my body to go away and sucked in a deep breath of Dan; ocean, sunscreen and warmed computer plastic.

  Those men pushed me to where I could see Sydney was on the screen. They pushed me until I would do anything to escape, anything to survive.

  And I did.

  I fucking survived.

  Sydney turned and jumped off the stage, the dogs following in her wake.

  I looked down at my hand holding on to Dan and consciously unlocked my fingers, but his free hand came up and closed over mine, warm and calloused and comforting.

  Tears sprung unwelcome to my eyes. Inhaling through my nostrils, I willed away the sting and quickly swiped my eyes with my free hand. There was work to do. Our mission was bigger than any one person. Certainly bigger than me. Bigger than what those men took from me.

  Frustration squeezed my throat. I didn't want them to have any power anymore. Would I ever be free?

  "I think we need to call the Joyful Justice council together," Dan said, referring to the governing body of our organization. His phone vibrated next to him, and I pulled my hand out from under his, freeing him to answer it. He looked at the screen. "It's Robert."

  Dan's voice was a deep baritone when he answered, putting on a tough facade for Robert Maxim. That was a man to show no weakness to— he'd exploit it. He'd destroy us all, if it served him.

  Dan's body tensed. "Sydney, where are you?"

  "She's on the phone?"

  He nodded and stood, pacing away.

  I turned back to the screen, the video continued to play, showing an empty stage except for one dead body through a swirling mass of smoke—a hellscape.

  But of course, Sydney Rye had survived.

  She always did.

  Chapter Two

  Trouble Defines Me

  Sydney

  "Dan?"

  "Sydney, where are you?" It sounded like Dan…like a small piece of home.

  My throat closed with unshed tears. "Mulberry is…" My hands sank into Blue's ruff, and he leaned against me. Comforting.

  "Mulberry's what?" Dan's voice hardened, impatience roughening the edges.

  "He's…I don't know…"

  I looked around the room, the walls jittering and shaking in my vision.

  "Where are you?" I heard Dan pacing, energy fizzing into his voice.

  "I'm in a hospital. But. Is it possible?" I closed my eyes and tried to think clearly, but everything jumbled up on itself, tipping over into madness.

  I'm crazy.

  "We can send someone for you. Where are you?"

  "Robert is here. He wants to take me back to the States—to Miami—so they can run tests."

  "Where have you been?" His voice lowered to almost a whisper.

  "I don't know, Dan." The battle flashed through my mind. And then the helicopter ride out of the city…we passed over a woman wearing a burka, surrounded by giant mastiffs. And she waved to me. She saved me and then she controlled me.

  "Can you put Robert on the phone?" Dan asked, bringing me back to the room where I stood. "Sydney." Dan's voice dropped an octave. "Put Robert on the phone." Like he wanted to talk to an adult. My mother did the same thing when I was a kid and wanted to stay the night at a friend's house.

  My mother. Was she really here, too?

  "I think my mom is here. Why would my mom be here?"

  "Okay, you need to put Robert on the phone."

  "I'm not sure where he went." I looked around the empty room. Just me and Blue.

  Dan took a deep breath. "Describe your surroundings to me." I heard him typing.

  "I'm in an exam room…there is an exam table with paper on it. White walls. A sink. I'm seeing spots of light, and nothing is steady. The thunder and lightning are as bad as they've ever been." I closed my eyes, trying to escape, but found burst of color and strange shapes. "One minute I was dying and the next I found myself running down a mountainside toward a city…then suddenly I saw Mulberry falling…"

  What was happening?

  Fear tingled along my spine, releasing adrenaline into my system and making lightning crackle across the room. I blinked, trying to clear the bolts of electricity.

  "Can you open the door, or are you a prisoner?"

  "Not anymore. I don't think so."

  But I had been…

  I crossed to the door quickly, yanking it open. Robert stood on the other side, leaning against the wall, all casual, controlled power. He raised his eyebrows.

  "Dan wants to talk to you." Robert nodded and stepped into the room, using his body to move me back. I stumbled, and his hand shot out, grabbing me by the elbow, steadying me. Taking care of me. He released me as soon as I had my footing and slipped the phone from my hand—easy grace, easy control, slippery when wet.

  "Dan," Robert's voice came out deep and smooth—that still, chilled sea. I heard Dan's voice on the other side, like a duck squawking. Then Robert's response. "Mulberry's in surgery." Robert's gaze flicked to mine. "I don't have any more information than that on his condition. The doctor will come speak to us as soon as he can." Dan squawked some more. "They're not sure of Sydney's condition. She's hallucinating, has lost time; she has serious injuries, and some pretty impressive work was done on her in the field."

  My hand reached to my side where scar tissue tingled under my touch. I'd been shot and stabbed. That woman saved my life.

  Then held me prisoner.

  More squawking from Dan. Robert looked away from me, his eyes scanning the room the way Blue scanned with his ears—like a predator who remained concerned about his safety.

  Or maybe it was my safety.

  "Yes, that's right; I want to take her back to Miami. I have specialists there—the same ones who worked on her right after the Datura poisoning."

  Years earlier I'd been dosed with a highly potent and devastating hallucinogen. They called it the Devil's Breath in Colombia, and it was often used in robberies—extracted
from the Datura plant, it sent your mind into a terrifying nightmare, leaving your body completely pliant. Victims emptied their bank accounts, escorted their burglars to their homes, and offered them their most precious possessions.

  Blue killed the man who dosed me, but I'd stayed in a nightmare for almost a month—I'd finally woken up, but the hallucinations never fully left me. Thunder and lightning had plagued me ever since…but I knew they were hallucinations.

  I knew what was real.

  Robert held the phone out to me. Dan's voice came through, clear and familiar. "I'll have Merl meet you in Miami. I think Robert's right. We need to get you to a specialist."

  "I can't leave." The truth fell from my lips. "I'm not done here."

  "You need help, Sydney." Anger and frustration harshened his voice. Dan could never understand me. He could love me but never get me. My gaze traveled to Robert, his arms crossed, his lips set in a firm line—pure icy steel behind his eyes.

  Robert was the only one who understood me.

  "I have to…" What did I have to do? Why couldn't I leave this place? My gaze traveled to Blue. He had puppies. I couldn't leave without Blue's puppies.

  But it was more than that. There was someone out there—someone who used me.

  They'd saved my life and then controlled me.

  If they could control me…they could control anyone. They were dangerous.

  "I have something I need to do. Thanks for the concern. It's always good to hear your voice, Dan."

  I hung up the phone before he could answer and handed it back to Robert. A smirk played on his lips. "What do you have to do?" he asked, his eyebrows raised.

  "I have to kill the bitch that tried to use me."

  His smirk slid into a sly grin.

  "Let's go to Miami first, get you checked out. Then we can come back here and take care of everything." He moved in on me, entering my personal space.

  "No. I'm not leaving."

  "I can't protect you here, Sydney." Robert ground out the words, pulverizing them into almost a threat. Almost.

  I bleed every month—death does not frighten me.

  "You can't protect me anywhere, Robert. No one can."

  A knock on the door interrupted us before Robert could respond. "Come in," he commanded, not taking his eyes off mine.

  A man in blue scrubs entered the room. Robert turned, keeping me behind him. "Mr. Maxim." The doctor nodded his head in deference.

  "How is he?"

  This must be Mulberry's doctor.

  I stepped out from behind Maxim, and the doctor's eyes drifted over me, before returning to Robert. He guessed where the power lay.

  He guessed wrong.

  "He's in critical condition. The surgery went as well as could be expected, but we're keeping him in a drug-induced coma."

  "Will he recover?" Robert asked.

  "He's lost his left leg just above the knee." A wave of revulsion ran over my body as I remembered Mulberry's bloody, torn flesh on the battlefield. "And he lost a lot of blood. I can't say what kind of mental capacity he will have if he wakes up."

  "How bad are we talking about?" Robert's voice stayed neutral. Wind howled inside my head.

  The doctor frowned. "It's possible he could be fine…or, in the worst case, left in a vegetative state."

  "Can I see him?" I asked, stepping forward.

  The doctor kept his gaze on Robert, who nodded slightly. "The nurse can show you to his room," the doctor said, stepping back and opening the door, speaking quietly to someone in the hall.

  As I stepped out of the room—Blue on one side, Robert on the other—I grit my teeth, preparing myself for whatever would come.

  Thunder and lightning and everything frightening brew inside you. Death cannot take you yet.

  I stumbled as the woman's voice whistled on the wind of my madness…She was real. And I had to find her.

  April

  My knees burned as I knelt on the hospital floor, eyes closed, palms pressed together. Yes.

  I would earn a place by my daughter's side. We would change the world, bring the word...I was the mother of the miracle. Everything I did, I did for Joy.

  Please provide me with the strength to follow her word, to follow the path you lay before me.

  I will need strength. So much.

  My lips formed words, prayers I knew by heart...they came straight from my heart, from the seat of my emotions, my direct connection to the Lord and Savior.

  He chose me.

  He chose Joy.

  The doors of the waiting room squeaked, and I opened my eyes. Joy walked in, her dog with her, his big form pressed close to her side. Robert strode just behind her, almost an equal…but not quite.

  He was speaking in a tone too low for me to hear, but my daughter did not look at him. Her eyes scanned the room and landed on me. They narrowed. I had a lot to atone for with my daughter: Joy, Sydney, the Miracle Woman.

  Scrambling to my feet, I approached, my hands out in supplication.

  She looked at my exposed palms with a dark gaze. “What are you doing here?" Icicles dripped off her voice. Robert turned to me, a small line of annoyance creasing his brow. He quickly smoothed his expression back into a calm mask of superiority. Here was a man who'd be shocked when he met our Lord...

  "Joy, how are you? How is Mulberry?" I asked.

  She shook her head. "You don't have a right to ask me anything."

  "We are on the same side, Joy."

  "No. We. Are. Not." The icicles’ sharp tips stabbed with each word. She hates me.

  Tears burned my eyes. "I'm so sorry, Joy; I never meant to hurt you."

  "You can't hurt me." She stepped closer, and I forced myself not to shy away, to hold her gaze. I love you. "You are nothing to me."

  "I'm your mother." She couldn't mean it. My little girl, that tow-headed toddler who came to my arms when she hurt her knee, when she needed comfort of any kind...I made her.

  Her eyes held mine, the ice in her gaze freezing me as effectively as a winter storm. Then she turned and stalked away. Robert shrugged, his expression as cold and empty as ever, before turning to follow her. I grabbed his arm.

  He looked down at my hand, black soot from the battle still staining the skin. "Let go," he said, his voice quiet, empty.

  "Please, Robert, talk to her."

  His eyes rose to mine. So empty. Another shiver passed over my skin. "I plan on talking to her, but I will not argue your case, April." He pulled free from me, and followed my daughter down the hall.

  A huge, endless abyss opened inside of me. Nothingness.

  A test?

  Was God testing me? Yes, of course; this was all meant to be. Everything was as it should be. I had to prove to Joy that I was serious. I couldn't expect her to just believe me.

  I'd hurt her. Pushed her and my son, James, away. Tears tried to cloud my vision, but I refused to be blinded by them. I had to continue to do the work. To pray. And the Lord would reveal my path.

  I looked down at myself, at my bloody, ripped dress. Robert had taken my weapon—saying that I couldn't keep it and come to the hospital.

  But I didn't have to stay here.

  The elevator opened, and a nurse walked out, her head bent over a chart in her hands. I crossed the small waiting room and stepped into the empty elevator. A doctor got in next to me and pushed the button for the ground floor.

  The elevator began to drop down. Hell is beneath my feet but the Lord will lead me where I need to go.

  Robert

  I sat on the edge of the desk, the polished wood surface smooth against my rough canvas pants. The president of the hospital had offered me his private office for my calls.

  I'd changed my clothing since the battle, but tension lingered in my muscles, and the taste of dust and death stained my tongue.

  The phone rang, reaching across the ocean to Miami.

  "Mr. Maxim, how can I help you?"

  "Dale, good to hear your voice."

 
He cleared his throat. "I wish I could say the same."

  A laugh bubbled inside me, but I didn't allow it to escape.

  Dr. Dale Mitchell owed me. He owed me his life, his livelihood, everything.

  I didn't find it difficult to own another person, to have him indebted to me, a debt so large he would never be able to repay it. I found it easy to control and command men like Dale.

  It was the reverse…or an even playing field…that rubbed me the wrong way. I rarely did business or interacted with those that I could not control.

  Except Sydney Rye.

  Dr. Dale was a member of a very exclusive club that I founded. My sexual proclivities and his ran along similar veins. However, I had restraint. Whereas Dale… well, he had a problem. Or he did. I solved it—saved him.

  He'd strangled a young woman. Killed her in his bed. In the bed he shared with his wife. That his daughter crawled into each morning for a cuddle.

  I made the corpse in that bed go away.

  I made sure that Dr. Dale stayed in practice, that his little girl still had a father, that his wife kept her husband.

  And the victim…I arranged to give her an honorable death. Her family mourned a hero instead of a whore.

  So Dale always answered when I called. When Sydney Rye was under the influence of Datura, he personally oversaw her care. And now he was going to fly to Turkey, had to get on the plane within 45 minutes, and help her again.

  "Your flight leaves out of Opa-Locka Executive Airport."

  There's was a pause, a moment for Dale to decide whether to argue. His daughter had a piano recital tonight. But he'd skip it. I let him have his moment, his pause.

  "Is this about Sydney Rye?"

  "Yes."

  He cleared his throat. "Last we spoke, she'd recovered with only minor hallucinations…"

  "They've become more severe."

  "The storm?"

  "Yes, thunder and lightning. And she lost time."

  "How so?" Curiosity deepened his voice.

  "She almost died, was taken prisoner. And doesn't remember much of it. And," I cleared my throat. "She was made to do things, against her will."