by Ryk E. Spoor
“I still have an investigation ongoing, Wood,” Baker said, with a cold intonation. “Leave town and I can have you brought right back here.”
“Oh, I won’t leave. Yet. But you finish this investigation—pin it on either the real crook, or one of your own people, I don’t care which—and let us out of this infested hellhole within the next week. Because I swear by God that if we have to hang around here any longer than that, I’ll phone the authorities anyway.”
“You wouldn’t!”
I whirled around, grabbed his collar and shoved him back against the counter. “The hell I wouldn’t! Do you think I’m an idiot? That I can’t do a little simple math? It’s been less than a year since Morgantown, and here you are, in charge, hundreds of you furry bastards living like so many Addams-family rejects behind a coat of Brady-Bunch paint. You didn’t win any elections to get here—you whacked hundreds of people and took their places. The only reason I’m not blowing the whistle right now is that when your kind are cornered, you kill, and I don’t want to be responsible for another bloodbath. I’ll take your word—for the moment—that you’re not killing anymore. Maybe it’s true. It had better be true from now on, believe you me.” I let him go, turned back to Sylvie. “Let’s go.”
I ignored the crawling sensation between my shoulder blades and didn’t look back as we left.
Chapter 63: Dealing With a Devil
“Why the hell can’t you keep your fifty thousand makeup things off the darn counter?!” I exploded as three bottles fell over.
“Probably for the same reason you can’t put your stupid clothes away when you go to bed!” Syl snapped back. “Do you know how disgusting it is to leave your dirty clothes on the floor?”
I opened my mouth to fire back, saw the mingled anger and hurt in her eyes, and closed both eyes and mouth. “Jeez, I’m sorry, Syl. This thing’s really getting to me.”
She came over and put her arms around me. “Me, too.”
“Some honeymoon this is turning out to be.”
Venice and Nokomis were still lovely places, but just how are you supposed to relax and enjoy your stay when you’re aware that any one of the nice people around you—on the beach, in the store, on the street—could be a soul-eating monstrosity just hiding out until such time as they can gain the upper hand on your own species? Baker had come through with the money for destroying my prototype, but without access to my homegrown lab and materials I wouldn’t be able to duplicate the things. I was now carrying one of the commercial CryWolf goggles, but I didn’t bother wearing it while out and about. I could do without drawing that much attention, and I really didn’t want to know just how many wolves were around me at any given time.
“The first part was fine. It’s not your fault that we’ve found ourselves stuck in another strange circumstance.”
I took a deep breath and tried to relax into her. There was no point in letting this drive me nuts. “Maybe not, but Verne did say that I might be the focal point of everything. The fact we’ve run into the weird here…well, he might be right.” I took another breath, smelling her hair and letting my eyes close. I’d given Baker a week, and it had only been two days. If I didn’t get a grip, I’d be saying something I’d never be able to make up for by the time another five days were past.
There was a knock on the door. Both Syl and I jumped, showing the state of our nerves. “Who is it?” I called back.
“Sheriff Baker sent me over, Mr. Wood. Might I come in?”
I went over to the recently repaired door, put on my goggles, and opened it, keeping the chain on as I studied the man standing there. He was a tall man, over my six foot one, with thick, wavy brown hair brushed back from a high forehead, piercing blue eyes, and sharp, patrician features. He was slender, though apparently fit, and his clothes were of impeccable cut—clearly upper-class. I glanced back at Syl to make sure she didn’t have a nasty feeling about the next few seconds, then nodded, taking off the CryWolf goggles and sliding the chain to the side. “Come on in. What’s this about?” I asked.
“I have a…business proposition to make you, Mr. Wood,” he said. He bowed to Sylvie. “Lady Sylvia Stake; I have heard of you. An honor.”
As he was paying his respects, Syl was checking him out. His voice had a faint English accent, but with perhaps a Canadian influence? “A business proposition, Mr…?”
“Carruthers, sir, Alexi Carruthers,” he replied, shaking my hand firmly. “Yes. I would like to see if I can persuade you to reconsider your refusal to assist investigating the current string of unusual murders.”
What had been a pair was now a string. “There have been more?”
Carruthers nodded, taking a seat when I indicated that he should. “Three, two wolf and one human.”
“Was the human another of the wolves’ allies?” I asked.
“She was,” Carruthers acknowledged. “This may be coincidence, however. Out of necessity, as many townspeople as possible had been recruited. It is not improbable for a killer to run into two collaborators.”
I shook my head. “What’s in it for me, Mr. Carruthers? So far, as I told Baker, this whatever-it-is seems perfectly happy killing wolves and traitors to humanity. Since the wolves perpetrated mass slaughter to move here, and don’t show any sign of regret, I’m not particularly motivated to try and help them. I’m supposed to be on my honeymoon, not working.”
Carruthers smiled faintly. “I suppose monetary recompense would be foolish?”
I snorted. “I may not be the richest man in the world, but I’ve got more money than I know what to do with.”
“I told Baker that myself,” Carruthers admitted, “but it was the simplest offer I could make. When he called me in, I warned him you would be difficult to deal with; you have many reasons to not wish any of us well.”
I studied him. “Did you say ‘us,’ Mr. Carruthers?”
He smiled again. “Yes, I did.”
“You’re a wolf?”
“I am.”
The terrible, hollow feeling I’d had after Karl Weimar had attacked us returned. The wolves had found a way to hide themselves from the detectors. “Damn.”
He looked momentarily confused, then laughed. “Ahhh, your clever little CryWolf device! I must compliment you on that—an inspired piece of design. One that couldn’t have been done effectively even a few years ago.”
“Useless now though,” I said, trying to keep the bitterness out of my voice.
“Oh, far from it!” Carruthers assured me earnestly. “Really. Only a very, very select few of us can pass such devices with impunity. Only those of us who are truly Elder Wolves, and of course the King himself.”
“Baker isn’t an Elder?”
“Baker? Little Hastrikas?” Carruther’s laugh filled the room with a rich baritone sound again. “Why, he’s no more than eleven millennia—barely more than an infant, really, all things considered. No, no, Mr. Wood, there aren’t more than a handful of the Great Elders left alive. I, of course, am one of them.” For a moment, his eyes flickered, became soulless glowing yellow orbs. “Virigan, at your service.”
Both Syl and I gasped—in a way, that partial, instantaneous transformation was more macabre than the full-scale change. “So,” I said, “you’re saying that the CryWolf devices are still reliable?”
“In the vast, vast majority of cases, indeed.”
He still seemed relaxed and cheerful. “You don’t appear particularly disturbed by this…situation. If you don’t mind my asking, why aren’t you on the warpath along with the rest of your relatives?”
The smile faded; now Carruthers looked serious. “Mr. Wood, most of our people are children by our standards. Even the older ones, like Baker, have had easy times. They need to learn that sometimes prey can turn on you, and they need to know how to survive such times. If they cannot, they do not deserve to live; other worlds are not nearly as forgiving as this one has been. We are the greatest and most powerful of all beings that have ever lived; only t
hose who prove their worthiness again and again should have the right to even approach that potential. So has it ever been. If they wish a different course for our people,” he smiled coldly, “all they need do is challenge the King for rulership. And win, of course.
“But enough about us, Mr. Wood; let’s talk about you.” Carruthers studied me for a moment. “I actually wanted to meet you quite some months ago, after you interfered with something I’d been working on for years.” He raised an elegant eyebrow, waiting for me to guess.
I didn’t have to think long; there was really only one viable guess. “So you were one of the people behind the Project—the one in Vietnam, with Tai Lee Xiang.”
“Very good. I was in fact the person behind it all, and have been for several decades now.”
I thought about that for a moment. “That would mean you were working on this stuff while the OSR was still active.”
“Correct.”
“Now, just what would a werewolf want with a human genetic engineering project, Mr. Carruthers?”
He waved a finger in a “no-no” gesture. “Ah-ah, Mr. Wood, we are getting sidetracked again. The answers to such questions should remain mysteries; all the better to intrigue you. We are here to discuss your employment.”
I smiled back with an easy laziness I didn’t feel; I was in a room with one of the most lethal creatures on Earth, and knew all too well what it would do to me if circumstances changed. “No, you are here to discuss my employment. So far, I’m here to listen to whatever interesting facts you let slip and otherwise laugh at the very idea of helping you.”
Carruthers gave a heavy sigh. “Yes, I rather thought so. Let me make you a more concrete proposal. Your interference in the Project cost us immensely. There are a number of people—human, my kind, and, well, other—who feel that you would make an ideal target as an example. The game of international intelligence, on this level, is not played in the standard way, since, if we are being honest, neither side admits of this level’s existence. More grim and direct methods tend to be used in our realm of business. Your termination, despite certain allies who present formidable obstacles, would serve as a clear warning to others who have begun to gain an annoying brashness in their intrusions.
“I am willing to offer you amnesty—we shall write off the cost of the operation with respect to you and your lovely wife. Since the King’s decree protects you from my kind, this will essentially place you back at where you were before ever you were involved in such affairs; only mortal concerns to worry you.”
I nodded, considering. I hadn’t forgotten the possibility that the Project would take my interference amiss, but Carruthers had now made it a concrete threat, one that I couldn’t afford to ignore, especially now that I had a wife and, potentially, one day, a family of my own.
“What’s your angle, Carruthers?”
He raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, you’re a bright guy. You have the Project for resources, plus the gods only know what else. Why the hell do you want me in on this? What is it that prevents you and your furry family from solving the murders?”
“A matter of symmetry, you might say,” Carruthers responded. “You ruined one project, now you present yourself in a perfect position to rectify another.”
“Bullpuckey.” I glanced at Syl, who nodded, glaring at our visitor. “Don’t even try lying to me, Carruthers, or you can go sit on a silver spike and spin. Try again, the truth this time, or you can kiss any chance for a deal good-bye.”
Carruthers’ eyes narrowed, and for an instant, the wolf looked out, hungry, furious at being balked by this lesser creature; then the urbane mask was back. “As you will, Mr. Wood.
“Certain…features of this case are disquieting to my people. There are a few possible reasons for the…particular condition of the corpses, but all of them imply a form of death which our people fear above all others. At least one of the possible causes would make us more, rather than less, vulnerable to this attacker than human beings, and in most cases, the attacker will grow stronger with each kill. None of my people want to be involved—not only is the type of death truly hideous, especially to a race that is by all rights immortal, but if the one explanation proves correct, those investigating would be potentially supplying our enemy with ever greater power. A human being will be less vulnerable and, if he fails, will not provide much of a boost to our adversary.”
I snorted. “So you need an intelligent but dispensable agent who won’t prove to be a battery for this bozo.”
“Succinctly put.”
“You’re being awfully low on the details here. If you expect me to look into anything, you’d have to be a bit more forthcoming on them.”
A nod acknowledged my point. “Indeed, but you have not yet agreed to the position, Mr. Wood. The more you learn, the more dangerous you could become to us, true?”
“True enough.” I thought for a moment. “I’ll make you a counteroffer, Mr. Carruthers. You will arrange the same immunity for all those associated with me—specifically, you give up on Tai Lee Xiang and all his relatives. If his wife or daughter are still in your possession, or in that of anyone you have influence over, you’ll hand them back. Verne Domingo, Sylvie, myself, and to be blunt my whole damn hometown is off-limits to you and your gene-twiddled friends.”
“Have you completely taken leave of your senses, Wood?” Carruthers stared at me. I couldn’t completely blame him, I had upped the ante a bit, specifically in his own project’s area.
“Hey, you’re the one who came here. Take it or leave it. I’m not interested in only personal immunity—that’s not enough to make it worth playing this game with you. I’ll trust in Verne and Tai Lee to whip the crap out of any of your assassins who happen to wander through.” I turned my back on him and got myself a ginger beer out of the fridge and congratulated myself that my hands hardly shook at all.
I turned back to face Carruthers’ silent glare. I returned it with a raised eyebrow and sat back down.
Silence. None of us moved.
After what seemed an hour but was probably only a minute, Carruthers broke into a smile and spread his hands. “You have my measure, Mr. Wood. It is, indeed, that important to me. I accept your terms, with a single exception: Jeri Winthrope. While she is not, at present, high on our list of targets, she is connected to an organization that is in an adversarial position to us; I will not agree to something which would potentially leave me bound to permit an enemy to strike without my own freedom to strike them as I saw fit.”
I didn’t like the exception, but I also knew what “organization” he had to be referring to, and whoever they were, they played their own brand of deadly hardball. A warning to the Jammer should suffice to make sure they kept their eyes open.
“Agreed.”
“Excellent!” Carruthers stood to go.
“Whoa, there,” I said. “I want you to swear to this agreement.”
“Certainly,” he began, but I held up my hand.
“In the name of the King himself.”
His mouth tightened, then relaxed. “Yes, I suppose you would guess that one. So be it. I, Virigan, one of the Eldest Five, swear, by the name of our Father and King, the Final Devourer, Virigar, that from this day forth no forces under my control, or under the control of any I influence, involved with the Project or of our people, shall seek to harm, kill, interfere with, or otherwise inconvenience Jason Wood or any of the people associated with him as follows: V’ierna Dhomienkha, known as Verne Domingo; Tai Lee Xiang and any of his family; Sylvia Stake; and any and all residents of the community of Morgantown, New York, current or future, with the sole exception of Agent Jeri Winthrope and any that she recruits or imports to the area, aside from those already mentioned. In addition, I swear that if any of the family of the previously mentioned Tai Lee Xiang remain in the custody of any I control or influence, they will be returned to Tai Lee Xiang and will enjoy the same status of protection.
“
In return, Jason Wood, you swear that you will undertake the investigation of these killings in Venice and environs, and will devote the same ingenuity and effort that you have to prior investigations, ignoring considerations of our races’ differences in the pursuit of the perpetrator. Have I your word?”
“You have my word of honor, yes. I’ll do the best I can.”
Carruthers bowed. “Then it is agreed and sworn to. I would suggest you call the Sh’ekatha; he will be able to tell you many things about what you may be facing. In the meantime, I will be instructing my people to cooperate with you fully—including giving you information on ourselves and our enemies which we would otherwise never reveal. I shall not be available; I must return to my own duties elsewhere.” He extended his hand, which I shook reflexively, a shiver going up my spine. “Good-bye, Mr. Wood. I doubt we shall meet again.”
The door closed behind him. I looked at Sylvie. “Why do I have a feeling that despite having him over a barrel, I still got the short end of the stick on this one?
Chapter 64: Set in Stone
“You may have been tricked, Master Jason.”
I closed my eyes for a moment. “Why, thank you, Morgan. Just what I needed to hear.”
Sylvie and I had just finished filling Morgan in on the details. After I had called Verne to tell him the situation, he cut me off, not wanting to discuss things by phone, and sent Morgan down by chartered jet. Another peculiarity of Verne’s existence that I hadn’t known until now was that he could not travel a great distance from home, or stay away for any length of time, without significant preparations. Therefore, he had sent Morgan—his oldest living friend and retainer—as his right-hand man.
