Hellbender (The Fangborn Series Book 3)

by Dana Cameron

  “Well, there’s only one thing for it,” he said.

  “What’s that?”

  “You and me are going to bust out of here, soon as you can walk and fight.”

  I looked around; I wouldn’t tell him that it wouldn’t take long for me to be up. Not yet, anyway. “The door is steel, locked, and I assume, guarded by assholes with clubs, some kind of amped-up gas that works miracles against me. Lots of guns. There is one window that I can see, and that’s barred. And whatever shit they injected into me earlier is still really fucking with my head.”

  He loped over and tried the window. “It’s barred, but it feels like there’s a little movement to it. I think with the two of us, we might be able to pull it off.”

  I raised myself up cautiously, feeling like someone had dropped an ax between my eyes. My legs weren’t all that cooperative, but I hobbled over. When I saw what he was talking about, I knew my new friend believed in fairy tales.

  “You’re crazy. Even if we could move the grate, we’d never fit through it. It’s what, like a foot square? And just how high up are we, anyway?”

  “I figure four stories. So . . .”

  “So not necessarily fatal. Possibly just massively and painfully maiming.”

  “Yeah, okay. But there’s still a way to use it.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “Take off your pants.”

  My horror returned, only to be replaced by doubt as he told me his plan.

  “Hey!” I shouted. “Hey, anybody out there?”

  “Shut up in there!”

  “Hey, if you’re going to keep me in here, you might give me something to eat. Or a bucket to pee in or something.”

  “I said shut up! I’m warning you!”

  “And a blanket! It’s fucking cold in here, what with the window open and all.”

  “What?”

  “Ever since that hairy monstrosity jumped out the window—”

  “Bullshit.”

  But then I heard scratches at the door and knew Halle’d got the keys out. I braced myself, knowing what would come next.

  I wasn’t wrong. The first thing that happened when the door opened was that when I tried to grab her, I got a jolt of Taser. “That’s for being a pain in the ass. Again. You’ll get worse when I find out you’re—”

  I fell, but as we’d hoped, Halle’s eyes were drawn to the open window. Blood was spattered around the floor. It was only for a moment, but it was long enough to slow her reflexes when Max stepped from around the door.

  Max grabbed her by the back of the neck, claws extended. He ripped down and it was like a class introduction to the musculature and bones of the back. Her head lolled around, not quite detached, as the rest of her body collapsed. The weapon fell with a clatter.

  He picked it up, hefted it. “Can you walk?”

  “Yes. Get her keys, her cards—”

  “I’m on it.” He rifled the corpse’s pockets and then scooped me up with his other arm, helping me walk.

  Up close, it was strange. I didn’t have the urge to attack him, nor he me, apparently. I’d never been so close to one of his kind without being in fear for my life. Fangborn were drawn to their evil scent, synthesized by the Order to lure us in.

  Instead, Max smelled like a wet dog had rolled around in salami, as well as the metallic smell of the blood he’d drawn from his body to create the illusion that he’d forced himself out the window. My eyes were watering, but to be fair, I was pretty sure I didn’t smell like lilacs, either. Captivity hadn’t been kind to either of us, and our joint exertions in removing the bars—my rust-stained scrubs gave us a little extra grip and leverage—hadn’t helped.

  We didn’t meet any resistance, but we weren’t convinced our luck would hold. Eventually, my strength came back, and I was able to keep up with Max’s pace. It was like moving out of a fog, my vision clearing, my brain working better with each step.

  A little opposition came up suddenly, and we took care of them swiftly. So far, we’d managed to avoid raising a wider alarm.

  Max paused outside one door. “Hang on a sec.”

  “We don’t have time for this!” I hissed.

  “They had me in here when I came in. They took my phone. I need it back.”

  “Your phone?” I shook my head incredulously. “They’ll have destroyed it, long ago.”

  “Yeah, but not before I made a copy of it. Trust me. You’re going to want it, Zoe.”

  Well, he’d gotten me this far.

  The late Penny Halle’s magnetic card worked and the doorknob turned easily enough, so I didn’t have much hope he’d find what he was looking for. I gave Max a look, but he dodged in. After a minute’s cursing under my breath and pacing, I slipped in after him.

  He’d hidden his copy of his phone on a DVD of security records. A duplicate with a date in different ink.

  “Ha! Knew they wouldn’t check their own files!” He looked around, patted himself. “It has pics I took of their operation here and a copy of their files for this facility. Just a little taste of how they’ve been kidnapping people—Normals and Fangborn—and experimenting on them.” He paused. “Uh . . . I seem to have lost my pockets. Help a brother out, Zoe?”

  I would have stopped to marvel if we had time: I had the Order’s undoing in my hands. I found my pack and sword tossed carelessly onto a shelf until it could be examined. I stashed the DVD away in my bag.

  “Wait!” I said, remembering. “There are other people here!”

  “Zoe, like you said, we haven’t got much time, and if we go looking for them, we’ll raise the alarm faster!”

  “I can’t go without trying! Where would they be kept?”

  “They could be anywhere, but most of the regular holding areas are down the hall.”

  “Two minutes,” I said. “That’s all we’ll need.”

  Max fum-fuhhed before relenting and then grabbed a handful of key cards. “One minute.”

  We tore down the hall. Max stayed behind the door so as not to startle anyone while I opened it. “We’re busting out of here,” I yelled, and tossed key cards to the three startled inmates. “Take these; let anyone out you can find! Run fast, and be quiet!”

  I repeated the process twice more before Max finally insisted we leave. The alarm would be raised at any moment.

  We left the building, following the routes Max knew would keep us out of sight. We hit the door and ran for cover. I still had a killer headache, thanks to that guard’s blast, but all I had to do was remember Jacob Buell torturing me and what my prize would do to people like him. The mere thought of it gave me wings.

  Max seemed to recover, too; he’d had no fun being cooped up. It occurred to me: The Fangborn couldn’t be the only enemies the Order had.

  We were almost to the gate, and I began to let myself believe we might get out without an incident. A car was pulling up and presented the perfect opportunity to get out without having to find a weaker spot in the high walls.

  Max stopped entirely, as if he’d run into an invisible wall. I grabbed his arm and pulled him behind a parked car before anyone could see us. We were so close . . .

  “What’s wrong with you?” I whispered. “This is our chance. As soon as the gates open—”

  “That’s . . . my car,” he said. “My friend, the one who got me the job, is driving. Bastard never even tried to spring me, never tried to stop them. I’ll kill him,” he growled. He made as if to stand, and I yanked him down.

  “No, we can’t risk that now. I know what it feels like when you think you’ve been betrayed. But we’ve got to get out of here.”

  He opened his mouth to disagree and I hurried on. “This is a chance here. We gotta go. Okay, Max?”

  His hesitation was too long. “Okay?” I repeated.

  He nodded, and I shook his arm. “Okay, then. When the gate opens, we’re going to . . .”

  I filled him in on the rest of the plan as we sneaked closer to the gate.

  “It�
��s too risky,” he said. Good, at least his mind was back on the immediate business of getting away. “Why won’t they just—”

  “Because as soon as we’re clear, their way will be blocked, and once we make the tree line, we’ll be closer to the public and have a better chance to escape.” I didn’t want to tell him I might be able to blast the guard shack, because I didn’t want to get his hopes up.

  He shook his head but got ready. “Don’t know what the public will make of me.”

  “Doesn’t matter now. Count of three, we go.”

  The guard went back into the booth. The “friend” rolled up his window.

  I didn’t have a chance to say “Three!” Alarms began to wail. The facility would be kicking into overdrive any moment.

  We exploded from cover like we were startled quail. We hugged the wall as long as we could, until our two observers were convinced their business as usual was concluded, and then we bolted out.

  Straight up and over the rail, onto the car and right down the back of it.

  The railing was going up, but our presence startled the driver so that he didn’t move. His car blocked the way of the guy in the guardhouse. And before they knew what was happening, we slid and clattered over the roof and down the hood. It wasn’t the most graceful exit—cars are meant to be slippery and aerodynamic and not for running over—but it was surprising, and that worked for us.

  My muscles found release in exercise. It felt so good, I ran faster, which was a fine idea, because I heard the telltale noises that let me know that the bullets had started flying.

  I turned my head just enough to sniff and make sure Max was right behind me. I shouldn’t have done it. He was so hot on my heels, we nearly tripped each other up.

  “Whatever you do, Max, don’t stop running!” I shouted. “It’s gonna get noisy here!”

  I turned, paused briefly, and blasted the guardhouse. That would keep them wondering for a while.

  “Holy shit!” Max yelled, and ran faster, as if he’d been goosed.

  I’d thought that we’d be safe once we were outside the walls and under the natural cover of the trees. I was only partially correct; as we huddled under a large pine tree, I realized I should have anticipated that there would be unmarked SUVs in the area.

  I also should have anticipated there would be helicopters. Fucking drugs. Sirens sounded in the distance.

  “Pick your spot, Zoe.” Max was huffing, out of breath. “You figure out where you want to make a break for it, and I’ll distract them.”

  “Max, we’re both getting out of here. I probably have a few more blasts left in me—”

  “Don’t risk it. I’m going to look like this forever, Zoe. If one of us can get away from these sick fucks, I’ll count that a victory.”

  Suddenly an anger like a firestorm blew up inside me. If he’d been wearing a shirt I could grab, I might actually have laid aggressive hands on him, but fortunately, his rough gray coat prevented me. “This isn’t the time for that. How about we try a little harder first, before we go to dramatic sacrifices? That time may come soon enough, but for now, we’re both going to—wait!”

  My proximity sense kicked in; I had tuned into who was on the chopper. “Follow me—make for that open area! Run!”

  The helicopter found us. That whmmp-whmmp noise was worse than an enemy’s footsteps drawing closer. It was like thunder, especially made to bear down and crack the sky over my head.

  But it was our copter, and I knew the people on it.

  “Zoe! Get your ass over here!”

  I looked up. My ears didn’t lie. Adam Nichols was in the helicopter, his shoulders making a wall in the doorway, his light blue eyes intense. The wind from the copter barely moved his short blond hair.

  I waved as I ran, extra glad I hadn’t Changed. “Max! Take my hand.”

  He picked up his speed and grabbed my hand. He gave me a look but didn’t slow down. I liked that. No questions about what I’d asked him to do.

  The helicopter hovered, then set down. The racket was still unbelievable, but now that I knew it was on my side, I wished it a thousand times louder.

  Adam hesitated when he saw Max, but he gave a signal, and I saw shadows within the helicopter shift and move. I wondered how many guns had been trained on Max, convinced he was a Fellborn chasing me.

  Just to confirm the point, I shoved Max into the doorway first. Adam had no option but to help him inside if he wanted to get me inside quickly, too.

  I grabbed his hand and jumped in. Adam kissed me, and I kissed him back hard, loving his strong arms around me, not caring what I looked or smelled like, or who was watching. With Adam here, I suddenly felt like I could take on the world.

  A barked order from someone I couldn’t see, and Adam broke the kiss, not entirely releasing me. I didn’t want him to, but we had an audience. He pressed something into my hands, out of sight of the others. “Jean Leigh sends her regards. She’s particularly pleased with the work she did on the Japanese landing sticker and the exit stamp.”

  I realized he’d pressed my real passport—now made somewhat less authentic by the forger I’d met with Adam—into my hands. I furrowed my brow but stowed it away. Time for questions later.

  “Start talking, Zoe,” he said. “What have we got here?”

  “Max is, uh, a friend. We escaped together.”

  “How you doin’?” Max said. “You wouldn’t happen to have a cigarette would you?”

  “There’s no smoking in here,” Adam said automatically. Then a pause. “You spoke.”

  “Yep.”

  “And your name . . .”

  “Is Max DiSilvio. Used to be with the TRG.”

  “Sure . . .” Adam still wasn’t sure what to do with the information. Not only was Max not automatically attacking us, he could talk. Pretty good, too.

  Adam looked at me. So did all the other guys—uh, troops with guns. One woman looked as though she’d happily shoot me as well as Max. There were a few Fangborn on board, too; one with some kind of headdress sat in the shadows.

  I nodded. “He was another prisoner. They threw me into his cell—”

  “Hoping I’d attack and eat her or something,” Max added helpfully. “Or at least keep her too busy to escape.”

  “But we did escape,” I said, “and there’s a whole bunch of others trying to get away as well, spillover from her research joints back east. If you could let someone know to look for them—”

  More barked orders.

  “And the faster we get out of here, the better,” Max said. “It’d be just like these bastards to have a rocket launcher and use it.”

  But we were already airborne and making fast progress. The speed with which we moved startled me. The ride was smooth, if noisy. As if reading my mind, and there was no reason to believe she didn’t, the female trooper handed me some earphones. After a pause, and a meaningful look from me, she handed some to Max, too.

  “Thank you.” I nodded at Max, who seemed happier without the racket in his ears, which were probably even more sensitive than mine at the moment. But I noticed there were lots of eyes making contact and silent communication. There were a lot of looks cast back at Max by someone with a radio as well.

  I don’t know how much ground—air—we covered, but it seemed like no time before I recognized the features of the landscape below me.

  We were nearing a Fangborn compound outside Chicago. I was about to be debriefed.

  As soon as we landed, things went wrong. A team of former TRG members were waiting for us, guns at the ready. A couple of werewolves were half-Changed and poised to attack, and one vampire, too.

  I decided to take matters into my own hands and jumped out as soon as the door was open, squeezing past Adam, which was its own reward. I jumped out and held up my hands, creating a shield between the welcoming committee and Max.

  Of course, everyone in the helicopter was armed and on edge, too. So mine was an empty little gesture, but it had to be made.
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br />   I yelled as loud as I could over the dying noise of the helicopter engine. “No, no, nope, we’re not going to do this! Max was a prisoner, like me, and I’m sure you have questions for him. But you know, I think we’d all be happier without adding more guns and suspicion to the mix.” Finally the engine switched off, and it was a relief to everyone. “So put them down or . . . or . . . I will do something cataclysmic!”

  They’d all heard the stories.

  Max hopped out beside me. Guns bristled, werewolves growled, vampires hissed.

  “I mean it!”

  “Zoe, don’t bother.” Max put a hand on my shoulder. “Hey, anyone got a cigarette? I haven’t had one in a dog’s age.” He caught himself and snorted at the joke. “Yeah, maybe a little longer than that, too, at least since I was a human, which was probably a couple of weeks now. But since then, I figure, I’m aging seven times as fast as the rest of you. Anyone? C’mon, help a brother out. I’m dying over here.”

  Someone from the helicopter team nudged him on the shoulder, handed him a packet and a book of matches. “Ah, jeez, thanks, friend. I cannot tell you how much I . . .” Before he could finish, he’d lit up. His eyes rolled back, and it seemed his anticipation in no way lived up to the act itself. I thought the next couple of puffs would bring the ash down to the filter, but he finally sighed. “Thanks. Zoe, don’t worry about it. You don’t know if I was put there to feed you false information, to help bust you out, or whatever. These guys are gonna have to find out for themselves. They can start by pulling the file on me from the TRG, Max DiSilvio. Then we can answer all the questions. Hey—hey, is that Eliot Thompson over there? ET, it’s me!”

  “Jesus, Max?!” Thompson stepped forward. “What happened?”

  “Long story. You vouch for me?”

  “He’s okay.” Thompson shrugged. “Don’t know about what else might have changed, along with his new haircut, but he was a decent guy, for what it’s worth.”

  One trooper relented. “We’ll still have to hold you until we verify—”