by Laken Cane
A silver collar was locked around her neck, obviously to keep her from shifting, and it’d been there awhile. The metal had melted into and melded with the girl’s flesh.
But she wasn’t a werefox. “She’s not Megan,” Rune muttered, staring at the ravaged female.
The girl’s handlers hadn’t cared about her. They’d cared about what she hosted.
She’d been pregnant. Her belly had been sliced open, the fetus within stolen. Then a blade had been sent into her heart.
“Rune,” Jack called. “Through here.”
He stood peering into a black hole cut into the wall. The piece of wall that had once worked as a secret door, hiding the hole from casual view, lay in pieces on the floor.
The berserker had been there.
Jack pulled a penlight from one of his pockets and clicked it on.
“Ready?”
She shot out her claws and stepped into the black darkness of the tunnel.
Yeah. She was ready.
With an image of the dead girl burned into her retinas, she ran down the grim, dark tunnel.
She saw a light after about two minutes of cautious running, and in seconds was climbing some crude steps to the outside world.
She shook off the lingering effects of claustrophobia and watched as Strad jogged toward her.
“I couldn’t catch them,” he said. “They had a car waiting. I heard it leaving. They were almost out of the tunnel before I went in.” He balled his fists and his rage swirled around him like a lethal, invisible field. He wanted to kill.
She knew the feeling.
“Here’s the trail back to the house,” Jack said. “You don’t have to go back through the tunnel.” The crew was familiar with her claustrophobia.
She let Jack walk ahead and put her hand on Strad’s arm to halt him. He stared down at her, his eyes blazing, his lips a hard line, the scar Lorraine had given him standing in stark relief against his skin.
She shivered. How easily he awakened her need with just one fierce glance.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“The girl in the basement. That was your blade in her heart.”
He closed his eyes, hiding for a second the pain in their blue depths. “She was suffering.”
She nodded, then began walking once more. “There were…beds upstairs. What the fuck were these people doing?”
“I don’t know.”
She pulled her cell from her pocket. “I’m going to report this to the Annex. I’ll call Ellis and he can have them send a team to go over the house.”
“Officials in this town might take some convincing. They’re not going to want to let the case go.”
She shrugged and punched in Ellie’s number. “They can fight that out with Eugene and Rice. The Annex will take it if they want it.”
“Rune.” Strad’s voice was hard.
She looked up at the same moment Ellis answered his phone. “Shit.”
“What is it?” Ellis asked. “Rune?”
She slowly lowered the phone. “Shit,” she said again.
The road before the yellow house was blocked with a dozen cars. More cars, most of them with armed cops crouching behind the open doors, cluttered the front yard.
Men and women, some in uniform, some not, stood silent and grim, guns pointed and ready.
“Bastards must have deputized half the town,” Rune muttered.
Two uniformed cops stood above a wounded Owen.
He knelt in the dirt, his hands cuffed behind him, the bloody ends of his long hair almost touching the ground.
“You sons of bitches are fast,” Rune said, her voice calm. Inside, though, was a different story. Her stomach tightened with rage, and the eagerness to attack was so strong it made her sick to restrain it.
One of the people stepped forward. She was a large, fleshy woman with tightly wound hair, a thin smile, and a rumpled suit.
“Welcome to Reverence,” she said. “We’re here to give you a proper welcome.”
Rune sighed.
It was going to be a long fucking night.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“My name is Wallace,” the woman went on. “Sheriff Erin Wallace.
Rune, Jack, and the berserker could have taken out the Reverence police force and the twitching townsfolk—but not before one of the nervous Kentuckians put a bullet in Owen’s brain.
“What do you want?” Rune asked.
“First, I want you and those two mountains behind you to get on the ground.” Then, without waiting for them to comply, she screamed, “Get on the fucking ground!”
Without disconnecting the call to Ellie, Rune slid the phone back into her pocket. “Why don’t you give me my man and we’ll head back to Ohio.”
The woman glared. “You shouldn’t have come here in the first place. This is my county and I don’t need a bunch of freaks coming in to mess with me.”
“We were following the trail of a doctor named Johnson.” Rune shrugged. “He wasn’t here. Sorry to have bothered you.” She took a careful step forward and pointed her chin at Owen. “Uncuff him.”
“Nope. Now, if you don’t want to lose your friend, I’m going to suggest you do exactly what I tell you to do. I want you on the ground, right now, arms stretched out in front of you. Go on.”
Rune hesitated, and one of the goons behind Owen hit him in the head, almost gently, with his gun.
Owen toppled over, unconscious.
Rune sighed. Owen was going to come out of his recent experiences with a lot of dead brain cells.
He stirred, and the cop who’d hit him yanked him back up to his knees.
“Well?” the sheriff asked. “What’s it going to be?”
Rune narrowed her eyes, judging the distance to Owen and the possibility, if she ignored the sheriff, of any of her men getting out alive.
Wallace pushed her gun against Owen’s ear. “Not being a stupid woman, I personally wouldn’t try it,” she said.
“We’re with the Annex,” Rune said. “I can show you my badge—”
“See, we don’t like the Annex in these parts. I’m going to give you one more chance to get on the ground. If you open your mouth again I’m blowing out this pretty boy’s brains.”
The look in her eyes said she wasn’t lying.
“Shit,” Rune whispered, and dropped to her knees. Behind her, Strad and Jack did the same.
“That’s right,” Wallace said. “Now on your bellies. My men are going to relieve you of your weapons. And with all the shit you’re carrying,” she continued, her voice jolly, “that might take a few minutes.”
After they were cuffed, the strangers took their guns and blades with an eagerness Rune could feel. When the crew left Reverence, the chances of reclaiming their weapons were pretty slim.
“Do you know who I am?” Rune asked the sheriff.
“You’re an operative with the Annex,” Wallace said. “Beyond that, I don’t much care who you are.”
Good.
Then one of the women in the crowd, toting a rifle and carrying a lit cigarette between her thin lips, recognized Rune.
“Erin,” she said, stepping forward, staring at Rune with a healthy respect, “that girl is the monster, Rune Alexander. She was on the TV.”
“Well son of a bitch,” the sheriff murmured. “Allie, I do believe you’re right.” She peered at Rune, a glint of curiosity in her eyes. “So your boys here, they must be the Shiv Crew.”
Allie beamed. “I can name them for you, if you want me to, Erin?”
Rune turned her face away from them and rested her cheek on the ground. There was no use trying to convince the sheriff to let them go. But she and her people would lower their guard.
They always did.
“Whew, look at that pile of weapons,” Wallace said, ignoring Allie’s offer. “Some of you gather those up and bring them to my office. Toss those cellular telephones in the trash.”
Dammit. She lost more cell phones…
“Mick, Jerry, Alan,” the sheriff continued, “take the men. Put the girl in my car. Carl, come with me.”
“Where are we taking them, Erin?”
“To jail, Mick. Then I’m going to call and report that we’ve caught some big, mean ole fish.”
“You all be careful,” Allie called. “They’re dangerous and sneaky.”
“Now Allie,” the sheriff said, “you don’t think they’re more dangerous or sneaky than me, do you?”
“Of course not, Erin. I didn’t mean it that way.”
“I know you didn’t.”
Two men hauled Rune to her feet, but none of them dared touch Strad or Jack. Rune was the most likely to go crazy and kill them all, but they didn’t seem to know that.
The berserker wasn’t very far from his own freak out. After all, he wouldn’t have cared overly much if Owen died while the crew did what it had to do. Their jobs were risky and they all went to work each morning with the understanding they might not make it out alive.
She caught his eye and gave a quick shake of her head. Stay calm, Berserker. Now is not the time.
“What about this one?” one of the men asked, prodding Owen with the toe of his shoe.
“Put him in the back with her,” the sheriff said. “They can console each other.”
And with light laughter all around, they shoved Shiv Crew into the backseats of beat-up cruisers and followed their sheriff to the county jail.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The jail was old and smelled of Lysol and bleach, but that didn’t mask the more malevolent scents that had been worn into the walls and floors.
Wallace marched them down a surprisingly well-lit hall to the cells, standing back to watch as her deputies locked the interlopers into small barred cells.
They put the berserker into a cell first, and Rune watched uneasily as the sheriff’s sharp gaze stayed planted firmly on Strad.
The sheriff looked away once, following Strad’s narrowed stare from Rune to Owen and back again.
She smiled. “Let’s put our wounded man into a cozy cell with Alexander here.”
Strad squeezed the bars but said nothing.
“We have one upgraded cell in our little town,” Wallace said. “We don’t get a lot of monsters over here.” She nodded for one of the men to put Rune in the cell with silver bars.
“Nuh-uh,” Allie said. “Won’t work.”
Rune ground her teeth. Allie needed to shut her fucking mouth.
“What do you mean, won’t work?” Wallace asked. “Silver. Monster. I don’t see a problem.”
“Rune Alexander isn’t affected by silver.” Allie’s voice rang with a self-important pride, gleeful that she knew something her sheriff didn’t. Then the girl clasped her hands and looked at Rune. “I studied up on you.” Her smile was soft, shy. “I’m writing a—”
“Studied up on her. On a fucking monster.” Wallace crossed her meaty arms, stretching the shiny suit jacket across her shoulders.
Allie had made the sheriff jealous. Rune would have laughed, but she wasn’t getting a funny sort of vibe from Wallace.
Erin Wallace wanted to keep all the girl’s hero worship for herself. And her ego was going to make things a little harder for the crew.
“Sorry, Erin,” Allie mumbled.
“Well this does present a problem,” Wallace said. “Since you know so much about her, Allie, why don’t you go ahead and fix this for me.”
Allie threw a quick look at Rune. The others stood quietly, waiting to see how the events would play out. “Well, the only thing I can see for you to do is put a gun on one of her men. The threat will control her, just like when you brought them in, Erin.”
Allie stared at Wallace with big, innocent eyes, but Rune wasn’t buying it. The girl was shrewder than she was letting on.
“What happened to your eye?” Wallace asked Jack. Without waiting for his answer she motioned to two of her deputies. “Both of you, guns trained on the big one there at all times. If Alexander moves, blow his brains all over my nice shiny walls.”
They did as she commanded, eagerness in their every movement.
For once in my life, let the enemy not be sadistic sons of bitches.
But really, was there any other kind of enemy? If so, she had yet to be exposed to one.
“What’s the plan, Wallace?” Rune called, as the sheriff started to leave the cells. “What’s the fucking plan?”
Wallace didn’t look back. “I’m not willing to share that yet.”
But if the sheriff were involved with Johnson and the lab, Rune had a good idea the plan involved Erin holding the crew until the real bad guys showed up.
She didn’t want to break out before that happened. When the baddies arrived, they’d surely take her straight to Johnson. Or maybe, if she were very lucky, to the lab.
Allie followed the sheriff and the rest of the men out, leaving the crew with the two deputies who paced the floor between the cells, guns ready.
Rune and Owen were in the cell across from the berserker, and Jack was in the cell next to Strad.
She walked Owen to the bunks, watching as he lowered himself gingerly to the bare, stained mattress.
“You okay?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
But he wasn’t. He’d been recovering from Rune’s attack when he’d gone after Cruikshank. Then he’d been beaten all to hell by the fucking sheriff’s deputies. No, he wasn’t okay.
But he was alive, and she was going to do her best to make sure he stayed that way.
She went back to the bars and wrapped her hands around them, staring across the way at the berserker. She could have broken the bars like skinny, dry bones. Strad would have hit the floor the minute she moved.
He, unlike Owen, wasn’t injured. The deputies wouldn’t have a chance to do anything but get off a couple of wild shots before Rune deprived them of their heads.
She shot a smile at the two deputies. They cleared their throats, at the exact same time, and stepped back.
They slid closer to the berserker, their guns up and ready. “Alexander,” the one on the left said. “Where’s your monster?” He didn’t say it in a contemptuous way—merely a curious one.
“I am my monster, baby,” she told him. “And my monster is me.” She grinned and winked at him. “So you’re looking at it.”
“You’re not that scary,” he muttered, but when she stared at him, her monster peeking from her eyes, he looked away in a hurry.
“Fucking cold,” Owen said. “I’m freezing in here.”
She went to him and sat on the edge of his bunk, then put her hand to his forehead. “You’ve got a fever.”
He shook with chills, and sported a flush high on his bruised cheeks. She pushed his hands gently away from his ribs and pushed his shirt up.
New bruises covered his midsection, and the bandage covering the injury she’d given him was hanging loose and stained with blood.
She lifted it away, grimacing at the angry, red stab wounds. “It’s infected.”
“How is he?” Jack called.
“Not good.” She stood and walked to the bars. “Ask Wallace to send in a doctor,” she said to the deputies.
“She won’t do that.”
She narrowed her eyes. “What’s your name, deputy?”
He shifted from one foot to the other. “Lawson.”
“Listen to me, Lawson. This is not going to end well for you and your people. But if you help me now, I’m not going to forget it.”
He glanced at the door.
“Andy,” the other cop said. “Don’t even think about it.”
“I’ll just pass on the message,” Lawson said. “It’ll be up to Erin what to do about it.”
“Good,” Rune said. “That’s good, Andy.”
“Shut up,” the other cop said, his voice hard, but beneath that hardness was a fear he couldn’t hide.
“Andy,” the berserker said. “You’ll want to come out of this alive.�
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Andy’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, and he backed toward the door. “I’m going to tell the sheriff,” he said to his buddy.
“The fuck you are,” the other one said. “She said keep your gun on this one, and you’re not doing shit.”
“Calm the fuck down, Joe,” Andy said. He stood for a moment, indecisive, then turned and sprinted for the door.
But Joe wasn’t having it. He tackled Andy, forgetting that he, too, was supposed to keep his gun trained on the berserker.
Rune shook her head, sighing. Fucking idiots.
She couldn’t wait around, much as she wanted to. They ended up in jail in the first place because she wasn’t willing to take a chance with Owen’s life, and that hadn’t changed.
As the two deputies struggled, panting and landing angry punches, she kicked the bars of her cell.
They splintered, flying outward and hitting the bars of the cells opposite her with a sound that brought the two cops out of their scuffle.
Before they could so much as untangle themselves, she’d freed Jack and the berserker, and her monster was flexing his muscles with joy.
The two cops stumbled over each other, fumbling for guns the one had holstered and the other had dropped.
“Fuck,” Joe screamed.
Rune didn’t want to kill either of them. “Run,” she said, her fangs cutting into her bottom lip. “Or die. Your choice.”
Strad grabbed Joe by the throat and stole his gun, and Andy didn’t wait for Jack to do the same to him. He threw his gun, then put his hands in the air and ran the fuck out of there.
And as soon as the berserker released him, Joe followed.
“Get Owen,” Rune said, and without waiting, shot out her claws and strode through the doorway.
She heard a door slam somewhere deep in the building but other than that, all was silent. Too silent.
With her men at her back, she burst through the exit doors, not really surprised to see the line of rifles aimed at her and her men.
She was shocked, somehow, that it was nighttime. Streetlights lit up the area, casting a surreal yellow light over the pavement.
“Back inside,” she had time to say, before the line of men began firing.
