by K. F. Breene
Ann blew out a breath. “Well, I brought Charles. And judging by the simmering rage, he’s not going to take it easy when he comes to get us.”
Roger looked into her cell with calculating eyes. “Did you do that thing where you can sense each other?”
Ann felt her chin raise in defiance. Some shifters didn’t trust Stefan’s people, others held a firm prejudice against them. They looked down at Ann for spending time with them. “Yes.”
Roger nodded as he looked out into the lab. “Good. Can he find you through it?”
Ann let go of a breath she didn’t know she was holding. “I think so. I can get a general sense of his direction. Our link is weak, though. It’s new.”
“You do it in case you got caught?”
“Partially…”
Roger nodded again. “Smart. And he let you, huh? Charles is a cool guy. Not as crazy as that other one.”
“Jonas.”
“Yeah. Jonas. And that leader with the human wife—they’re even crazier. But I’ll tell you what, I’ll be glad to see them. They’re planning to castrate one of us to see how it alters our personality. They wonder if it’ll make us more docile, like it does a dog. They wonder if we won’t want sex after. Every time they talk about it with their laptops in front of them, one or more of them glances at me.”
“Jesus,” Ann whispered, tingles spreading through her body.
“Yeah.” Roger swallowed hard. “Jesus is right. They’ve done sexual experiments, too. Put porn on in front of us to see if it’ll get us hard, then put on animals, seeing if that gets us hard. It’s screwed up.”
“What else?”
Roger let out a big exhale, shaking his head. “On us new guys, not much. We’ve had CAT scans, just to check our health and whatever I think. Blood taken, pain tests, healing tests, crap like that. But the older crew… I think they’ve been through the works. Had their brains sliced into, bodies cut open—not good.”
Ann’s stomach pinched, partly because the type of torture she’d likely be subjected to in here would probably test her limits. Them breaking her was a very real possibility. And if they gave her an exam, they’d probably include a gynecological one. Charles wasn’t human, and he wasn’t shifter—his sperm would prove both of those things. It would give these scientists something new to obsess over.
She was, quite possibly, endangering all of Charles’ kind as well as her own.
Chapter Eleven
Charles waited impatiently as he focused on Ann’s emotions. She went from disgust to wariness often, occasionally irritation, and sometimes frustration. At least there was no more pain. For now.
Jameson stood next to three guys with laptops at the tree line. Even though they were in sight of the guard booth, no one had noticed them or come over to investigate.
Tim and a crew of shifters waited at the bottom of the mountain road, ready to run interference if they had to. Tim had wanted to come along, but after hearing of the traps and serums directed at shifters, he’d seen reason and stood down. Until they knew how those drugs worked, there was nothing they could do to shut them down before the day crew arrived to work.
“You finally gonna mate her, or what?” Paulie asked as he impatiently tapped his gun with his forefinger.
“Nosey.” Jonas stared through the trees at the guard booth.
“There are a ton of those shifters trying to get to her, man,” Paulie retorted. “Not to mention humans staring after her every time we’re out. A bunch of guys at the Mansion would cut someone to get her knocked up. If Charles doesn’t lock it down, she’s gone.”
“What are you, a bunch of gossiping chicks? Are we going to braid our hair and pick daisies next?” Charles growled in a voice not unlike Jonas’.
“You’re the one who knits, man.” Paulie huffed out a laugh. “I’m just filling the time.”
“Yes, I’m going to lock it down,” Charles admitted.
“Freaked out?” Paulie pushed. “Big step.”
Jameson turned back toward them. “We’re good. We’ve got a loop running with the surveillance cameras. Not sure what we’ll do in the daytime, but we’ll figure it out. Hopefully we won’t need it by then. Let’s do this.”
“Thank fuck,” Charles breathed as he stepped forward.
“You can admit that shit, man,” Paulie grinned, following him. “We’ve all been there.”
“I haven’t been there,” Jonas argued.
“You don’t count. You’re cracked.” Paulie took out his gun as his tattoos swirled with color.
Jonas snorted, his own tattoos flaring.
“Okay.” Jameson waited until members of the Watch had gathered around. Paulie’s street thugs were visible behind them, lacking the ability to mask themselves within the shadows. “This is simple. We walk right through the front door. We don’t want to kill everyone—there will be innocents in there. They are just doing their job.”
“They’re all just doing their job…” Charles said.
“Cleaning floors and shit, he means,” Paulie explained. “Not involved in experimentation.”
“Security can go down with the ship,” Jameson continued. “Keep the scientists alive, if there are any. We need to find out how much they know. I have one group going to the security station, another staying out here to patrol, and a third to rescue those who have been taken. Charles, obviously you’ll rescue the taken. Jonas, you’re under his command. I’ll lead the group to security. Paulie, set your men patrolling out here. I’ve assigned you some excellent pheromone workers in case any personnel show up to start their day. Daylight is in no more than a couple of hours, so we haven’t much time. Worst case, knock people out and put them out of the way to be dealt with later. Many will lose their memories and find themselves relocated—those will be people with no knowledge of shifters or us. Everyone on the same page?”
Movement and nods answered his question. Charles clutched his gun, feeling waves of disgust from Ann, followed by aggression. Someone was pissing her off.
“Let’s go.” Jameson turned and started to jog. Charles and Jonas followed, side by side. Paulie hung back, probably to get in line with his crew.
When they reached the road, Jameson slowed to a fast walk, his gun out. Charles and Jonas spread out to the sides of him, guns in hands. They walked up the center of the road, straight to the guard booth.
One guard sat at the window, looking out with a dull expression. His eyes slid back and forth over Charles and crew, but failed to focus on them. They were right in front of him, but he still didn’t see.
“I’d forgotten how blind humans without magic can be,” Jonas said as they came within five feet of the booth.
The guard’s eyes snagged on Jameson for a moment before moving off. A crease worked between his eyebrows as his gaze snapped back, settling on Jonas. His head tilted, as if seeing something he wasn’t sure of.
Jameson passed right by the booth, without bothering to stop. The guard turned in confusion, watching.
Charles stepped up to the opening as the guard’s gaze found him next. His brows crinkled a little more. “Hello?” The guard’s voice came out sounding just as confused as his expression.
Charles reached in and grabbed the man by the front of the shirt. He ripped down, slamming the male’s face against the counter. His nose cracked. The man groaned, grabbing his face. Charles let go, moving away when the man slid to the floor.
Paulie could take it from there.
Jameson’s crew assembled at the front door, then went in first, magic wrapping around them, keeping them hidden in the shadowed corridors of the sleepy facility. Charles paused at the doors, giving Jameson a few minutes. It’d be easier if the guards didn’t know Charles was coming.
After five minutes, Charles nodded at Jonas before sweeping his gaze to the dozen behind them. “Let’s go.”
They strode along the corridor, guns ready, magic swirling around them. At the first door they found a man in a gray uniform slumped
on the ground, his walkie-talkie gone.
Charles checked the map, moving ahead. Gunfire broke out in another part of the facility. Charles paused, his own gun raised.
Pop. Pop. Pop.
“Jameson’s crew,” Jonas whispered, braced against the wall, looking down the corridor.
Charles started moving again, passing a corridor leading off to the right before reaching one to the left. He turned, ducking back when he saw a man running toward them.
A loud bang sounded. Something hit the wall close to Charles’ chest. Paint and plaster sprayed up in a white mist.
“Too bad magic isn’t bulletproof,” Charles mumbled, ducking out and spraying the corridor with bullets. The man dived toward the ground. Too late. Two red splatters erupted on his chest. He made an “ugh” sound before his body crumpled to the floor.
“All clear,” Charles called as he jogged into the corridor, the others following behind.
“You need to stop watching so many movies,” Jonas said.
“You’re just jealous you don’t know the correct lingo for these situations.”
Charles glanced at the hand-drawn map, ignoring the many doors that lined the sides of the hallways. As he passed the next corridor, someone yelled up, “Got a shifter back here!”
Surprised, Charles stopped and looked back. One of his guys was standing in the middle of the hallway, looking down a corridor branching off to the right. Charles jogged back and followed his gaze, seeing a large coyote standing in the center of the hallway, facing them. It didn’t move. Just stared.
“How’d you know it was a shifter?” Charles asked, pointing his gun.
“Too big not to be. Besides, what would a real coyote be doing in here…?”
To the shifter that had been plaguing him and Ann this whole trip, Charles called, “You better have a damn good reason to turn on your kind, or you’ll be dead in the next ten minutes.”
A green-red magical mist rose around the coyote like smoke before starting to pop and sizzle. Fur and canine parts morphed into that of a skinny, naked male squatting on the shiny, white floor.
“I ain’t never seen a shifter use colors like that to change.” Jonas shifted his gun. “And usually their magic doesn’t pop and sizzle. This one of those they’ve been experimenting on?”
“I don’t belong to this lab,” the quivering man said in a weak voice. He stood, not at all concerned about his nudity, much like all the shifters Charles had met so far. “You need my help.”
“You’ve been hanging around my cabin, you’ve avoided all the shifter traps, and now you’re actually in the lab. Do you expect me to believe you don’t belong here?” Charles asked.
“Their drugs don’t work on me. Not enough to get me trapped, anyway.” The shifter raised his hands above his head, showing he wasn’t armed. Not that there was any doubt since he’d just changed from a coyote. Hard to hold a gun without thumbs.
“Why not? And hurry up, because time’s wasting.”
“My mom was a shifter, but my dad was like you. I’m half and half. I can smell their drugs, but they’re vague. Weak. I get a little fuzzy, but not enough to blackout or lose the ability to walk in a straight line. And I can do a little magic, after a fashion.”
“Ho-ly shit,” someone said behind Charles.
“And you thought Paulie was unique,” Jonas said to Charles.
“How’d you get in here?” Charles asked the man, not sure what to do with that information. Or if he should believe it.
“I dug a hole under the fence when they were first putting it up. Since their drugs don’t work, I can come and go as I please. The local dogs don’t bother me when I’m in coyote form. I had to fight for that privilege, but a shock of magic can really go a long way with a dog.”
“What are you doing around here?” Jonas asked in a gruff voice. “Why would you want to come and go if you could get taken at any time?”
“I’ve followed this lab. They were in New Mexico first. I followed them here. I know what they’re doing. In the old place, I could get people out. Not many, and not often, but occasionally they slipped up. Here, though, I don’t have the resources. They have surveillance everywhere. High-tech stuff. I know where things are, and I know the codes to free people, but I haven’t been able to do anything with it. Last time I tried I got shot at. They think I’m a real coyote since I’m not affected by their traps. I’ve been in the corridors before—I can mask myself in the shadows like you guys can. But I haven’t been able to get past the secondary security.”
“Why give up your life to try?” Charles asked, feeling the urgency to get going. If this guy was legit, they could really use his help. If not, they were wasting valuable time.
“My wife is here! They packed her up to move her before I could get her out. I haven’t seen them haul her body out to incinerate it, so I know she’s still in here somewhere.”
Charles looked at Jonas, uncertain. Jonas shrugged. “He’s got funky magic, he looks half-starved, I can easily kill him if he steps out of line, and this whole place knows we’re here, anyway. Might as well go all in.”
Charles turned back to the shifter. “Fine. How can you help?”
“This way is faster. I know the three codes to the cells—I found them in one of the scientist’s offices. But I need help getting past the second-tier security.”
Charles started walking toward the guy. As he neared, he saw the haunted desperation in his eyes. He smelled as though he hadn’t showered in a while and his hair was matted and sticking out at all angles.
“What’s this second-tier security like?” Charles asked. “The guard didn’t say anything about it.”
“At night there is a guard or two at each entrance to the lab where they keep the shifters. Those guards are armed with guns, and they have a panic-button that connects with the main security office. The doors are monitored with cameras on the outside. I don’t know about the inside. I tried to slip through when one of the guards wandered away for a moment and someone was at the door within one minute. They started a man-hunt. I was almost caught. They are always watching.”
“Not now. Now they’re dead,” Jonas said.
The shifter walked quickly, turning to the left down a corridor. They passed a dead guard bleeding on the floor. The shifter didn’t seem to notice even though he had to step over the body.
Another blast of gunfire sounded in the distance. It was impossible to tell if it was outside or in another part of the facility.
“Where’ve you been staying?” someone asked from the back.
“Outside, mostly, in my shifter form. When it rained I stayed in one of the cabins around here.” The shifter led them around another turn. An empty corridor with shining floors and white walls greeted them. The place was like an asylum. “I eat in coyote form, mostly. I’ve gone wild in that way.”
“Don’t eat much, by the look of it,” Jonas reflected.
“No.” The shifter slowed as they neared the end of the corridor. His body started to shake as he pointed toward the adjoining corridor. “The guards are stationed halfway down in front of a double door without windows. They have guns. One of the night guards notices me. My shadow-magic doesn’t seem to work on him. He is off on the weekends, but he should be standing out there now.”
“Has magic,” Jonas grunted. He looked at the shifter. “He know what’s behind those doors?”
“Yes. He antagonizes them. Hurts them and makes fun of them…” The shifter’s whole body started to tremble, the look of a broken man.
Charles felt a pierce through his heart. If Ann had been captured, and Charles knew what was happening to her with no way to save her, he’d probably end up looking exactly like this man. He would follow her around, too. He wouldn’t give up on her, and he wouldn’t leave her. He’d have the same dismal existence, hoping that someday he could free her and get his love back. To get his life back.
“Well, then. Looks like this guard is about to die.” Charles s
tepped around the corner cloaked in rage and darkness, his magic blasting through his body, spells at the ready. They were nasty spells, too—way worse than being shot.
The guard in question, already standing with a tight grip on his gun, nervous with darting eyes, swung the handgun toward Charles.
Charles already had his assault rifle aimed in his direction. He squeezed the trigger. Bullets sprayed in front of him, piercing the wall, door, and then flesh. The guard jerked back as bullets pounded into him, falling against the wall. His gun clattered to the floor.
The other guard fumbled with his gun. Too late. Bullets battered him next, thumping into his chest and then the wall next to him. Charles wasn’t the greatest shot, but with a gun like this, it did not matter in the least.
“Should we throw a grenade just to see it go boom?” Jonas asked with a straight face.
Charles grinned, shooting down the hallway for no other reason than the delight of it. “I wanted to hit him with magic. Too bad he reacted so quickly.”
“I like using guns. They’re easier than swords.” Jonas unloaded a round down the hallway. “Louder, though. They bring cops.”
“Shoot your guns for fun after we free my wife, please,” the shifter said as he retrieved a key from the guard.
“They have silencers…” Charles let the comment drift away as the door opened. He pushed through, ready for another guard or two. All he saw, though, was a large room with a row of cages on each side. In the center of the room metal gleamed, counter tops and instruments shining even in the dim light. In the first cage, naked and holding the bars with a white-knuckled grip and a relieved smile stood Ann.
“Hi,” she said in a gush.
The shifter ran forward, past all the cages, to the cage at the end. Dazed eyes looked up from a broken female hunched inside. Half her head had been shaved and an angry scar puckered her scalp. She blinked as the male’s hands reached into her, touching her shoulder.
“Jason?” the woman said in a scratchy, damaged voice.
