by Natalie Grey
“Yeah?” Arisha began shutting down the laptop.
“Thanks for offering to talk. Maybe I’ll take you up on that someday. But for now—don’t tell Stephen about this, alright?”
“You and Stephen are together,” Arisha guessed.
“Yeah. And he’s kind of … Bethany Anne’s second in command. One of them. I just want to figure out what I’m thinking before I talk to him, okay?”
Arisha nodded. “Okay. Just, you’d better figure it out before you end up on some other planet.”
Jennifer gave an involuntary laugh. “That’s the plan.”
—
“Let me out!” Filip had been banging the bed frame against the door for what felt like hours. He twitched his arm again, and the metal frame bumped into the door again. “Can anyone hear me?”
“I can hear you,” a man’s voice snapped. “For the love of God, shut up.”
Finally. Filip felt a wave of relief, followed by a wave of anger. Someone was there after all, but they’d been listening to him yell for ages and they weren’t planning to let him out. “Come on! Let me out!”
“Stoyan said not to.” That, in the guard’s opinion, seemed to solve everything.
“Is he going to kill me?” Filip called out to the guard.
Filip jumped as the guard banged his way into the room, and only just missed Filip with the door.
“No,” the guard said. He was clearly not the patient type. “He is not going to kill you, despite the fact that all of us have pointed out that killing you is clearly smarter than not.”
“Excuse me if—”
“Stoyan wants to keep you safe.” The guard talked over Filip without even waiting for him to stop. “There are people out there who would do anything to get their hands on the information you have—and they aren’t going to play nice.”
“Oh.” Filip sat down on the bed frame. “Now I understand. Thank you.”
The guard looked at him suspiciously. “That’s it?”
“That’s it. I woke up handcuffed to a bed and locked in here, can you blame me for wanting to know why?”
“I guess not.” The guard seemed confused.
“If you’d just tell Stoyan I’d like to help him any way I can, and thank him for not letting me run off and get into danger, I’d be grateful.”
“Sure. He’ll be back in a day or so.” The guard looked suspicious as he closed the door, and it took all of Filip’s self-control not to grin until he was alone. So, there were people who would do anything to get their hands on the information Filip knew. That was very good news. That meant that Filip could sell what he knew, and begin to move up in the world. This was the big break he’d been looking for since he came to the city. And Stoyan could go fuck himself if he thought Filip would be loyal.
The guy had used him as bait, killed Toma, and then chained Filip to a bed in a locked room. Filip was going to get out by the time Stoyan was back tomorrow—and when they next met?
Stoyan was going to see how it felt to be toyed with.
—
Gerard stared down at the charred records in his hands. He had enough here to justify a trip to the other facility. There had been some communication between the two—forbidden, but in this case, also useful. Their researchers had requested independent verification of experiment results, and that meant that the other facility would be able to recreate some of the research. He could only hope that this would be enough to ensure his safety. He pressed the number for Hugo and put the phone to his ear.
He was shaking, he realized.
“Status?”
Gerard decided to lead with the fact that this could be salvaged, “I have found records of very promising research at this facility that has been duplicated at the facility near Velingrad, but this facility was destroyed.”
There was a long and ominous silence. “What?” Hugo asked finally.
“Sir, from what I can determine, the experiments broke free and were able to kill many of the guards and researchers. Fires were set. The rest of the guards appear to have fled.” He tried not to let his voice waver. “Enough records survive, however, to show that breakthroughs were made in recent weeks—breakthroughs they asked the Velingrad facility to replicate. I will continue my research there if you would like.”
Hugo did not answer that.
Gerard swallowed. He tried to wait out the silence, but he only made it five breaths before he broke. “Would you like me to continue investigations here, sir?”
“No.” Hugo’s voice was flat.
He was going to die. Gerard slumped to his knees in the abandoned hallway and squeezed his eyes shut. He did not want to die.
“You will go to Velingrad,” Hugo ordered. “After you do one more thing for me.”
Relief made Gerard so dizzy that he could barely speak. “What thing?”
“Someone attempted to log into our system from your computer.”
“What?” He had hidden the computer well, strapped to the underside of the bedside table.
“Find out who did it, find out what they know, and kill them. Then go to Velingrad.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Go now. I will send jets to ensure nothing of this facility remains. They should arrive in an hour. I suggest you be gone by then.”
“Yes, sir.” Gerard disconnected the call and began to run for the entrance. He would want to be well away from the facility before the bombing began.
—
Stephen’s eyes tracked the figure as it made its way out of the facility and down the slope. Gerard was moving quickly and carrying no supplies. At Stephen’s side, Stoyan waited in agony. He had not changed forms, but he was only barely holding on to his human body.
He had watched as Gerard climbed ahead of them, and all of them here had noted that no lights came on and no screams could be heard from the facility. It was only when the wind shifted and carried the smells of smoke and blood to their hiding place, that they realized what had happened.
Everyone in the facility was dead.
Had Irina escaped? Had any of the Wechselbalg held there? His mind could come up with a thousand possibilities, and none of them had good endings. Some of the strongest fighters he knew had been taken, and none of them had come back. The experiments were guarded heavily. In order for them to break free….
Irina was dead. He had taken too long to find her. Darkness closed around him, and he pushed himself up to stumble back to the town.
“Jennifer,” Stephen spoke quietly into an earpiece. “Gerard’s heading back. Quickly.”
Jennifer replied, indistinct. Stoyan could have made out the words, but he didn’t care enough to try. Nothing mattered anymore.
“Really?” Stephen seemed interested. “We’ll do a sweep of the facility and meet you at the hotel.” He tapped the earpiece off and looked at Stoyan. “Are you coming with me?”
“What’s the point?” Stoyan asked. He shook his head as he pointed to the facility. “All that’s there is death.”
“Then why is he running?” Stephen nodded back to town, in the direction Gerard had gone. “Something happened in there. Something big. We need to know what it was, and we’re never going to get a better chance than this.” When Stoyan said nothing, Stephen added, “Your cousin may have escaped. All of the captives may have.”
Stoyan’s chest was heaving and his breath came harsh. “And if not?”
“Then we will give them a proper burial and avenge their deaths,” Stephen said simply. “My Queen does not take the deaths of innocents lightly, Stoyan.”
Stoyan’s shoulders slumped, but he nodded.
He did not want to see what they had done to Irina, but that was cowardice. He had to know the truth. He knew exactly what Irina would have said: it wasn’t just about her, it was about all of the shifters who were being taken.
Even if Stoyan couldn’t save his cousin, he could try to save the rest. He squared his shoulders and followed Stephen into the darkened facility.
—
Hugo paced around his study, throwing furious glances at the computer on the desk. Frozen there was the last moment of transmission from the security cameras at the Sofia facility. There were no enemies in the picture, just the desperate dash of an indistinct guard to turn the cameras off so Hugo would not see what was happening. He slammed a hand against the wall and cursed. Their failure had cost their lives—that should be enough for him, surely. Once punishment came, however it did, he must focus his attention on others.
It was not enough for him, though. It did not make enough of an example to the others. Unless— Hugo stopped, a smile playing around his lips. Of course. This was what happened when commoners did not heed the instruction of their betters: chaos and destruction. This was why he fought to establish order. Only those of his class could bring the world peace.
He would remember to use this example to show others why they must follow him.
He returned to his chair and picked up a headset, “What is your status?”
“Mr. Marcari, this is Fighter One.” The voice crackled slightly. “We are 48 minutes away from the target. We plan four runs, which should take no more than 12 minutes.”
“Four runs?” Hugo’s eyebrows rose.
“The building was originally a castle, sir, and has since been reinforced with concrete. The walls will not catch fire and will be difficult to take down. Four runs should level them.”
“I see. You have done well. Tell me when it is finished.”
Hugo cut the call. He would reward those pilots for their actions and their expertise. Let it never be said that Hugo Marcari was cruel for the sake of cruelty. He was cruel only to those who needed a lesson.
His eyes tracked the progress of the planes across Europe, and he smiled. It had been well worth the bribes it took to get the planes labeled as part of the Spanish Air Force - and as unarmed planes that were allowed safe passage across Europe. As long as no one looked at satellite imagery, the discrepancy would never be discovered, and with all the chaos in the world right now?
No one was taking the time to inspect other EU planes.
—
In Jennifer and Steven’s hotel room, Jennifer’s earpiece buzzed and she brought up a readout on her laptop, sent by ADAM. Her eyes narrowed as she watched the set of three dots, and she murmured, “That’s odd.”
“What is?” Arisha looked over.
“ADAM says they’re tracking three objects moving quickly over Europe. Looks like they’re making for the facility. He doesn’t have enough of a foothold in the system yet to know why, though.” She shook her head. “But I don’t like it. ADAM, can you get me eyes on those things?”
CHAPTER SIX
Javier Munoz turned his head to check the position of his wing mates. All three of them had been recruited two years ago from the Spanish Air Force by a man who explained that their families had a history of service to a noble family known as the Marcaris.
Called out of their regularly scheduled practice and marched into a small room at the edge of the base, the pilots had stood at attention as the man—he never bothered to introduce himself—had lectured them on duty, honor, and the chaos of the world.
He looked at their faces often, to make sure they were paying attention. He seemed impressed by what he saw, but he would have been less impressed if he knew the real reason the pilots were looking so interested that day.
For one thing, they were well-trained at standing to attention while an officer rambled on. That seemed to be at least half of what they did in the SPAF. For another thing, the pay in the SPAF was abysmal, and the offer this man was making was far better than spending their whole lives trying to advance to a desk jockey job just for some decent pay. None of them cared about the honor or the nobility or whatever crap the man in the suit was talking about. They just cared about the pay.
Their planes here were far better than the ones they got to fly in the SPAF, too. Before, they had practically played Russian roulette every time they went up. It was something to brag about, being able to fly absolutely any plane, no matter how broken. They cheered about it later over beer and used the stories to impress women in bars, but the truth was that sometimes they lay awake at night and remembered just how close they got to dying because of those planes.
Every single one had a different problem, and there were never enough mechanics to fix everything. Here, though the hangar bay was small, every plane was well maintained and full of new technology, and the mechanics were diligent in their work.
The bastards at the SPAF started upgrading to the Typhoon and A400M after they got out, which meant that in the near future, they wouldn’t be flying the better planes, anymore.
All the pilots had to do to keep their toys and their salaries was fly well and pretend they gave half a rat’s ass about the new world order their boss wanted to create. It was pretty clear that he wasn’t right in the head, but he was rich.
When Javier asked his grandmother about their family’s service to the Marcaris, she had shaken her head and laughed, “Child, there’s only two things to know about nobles: they have a lot of money, and they have a lot of strange ideas. Take one, pretend to like the other, and you’ll do well.”
So that was what he was doing.
“Javi.” Matias’s voice was quiet.
“Que?”
“Do you think there are people in there?”
“No, he said there was fire damage.”
“So why are we bombing it? Fire doesn’t destroy a castle.”
Javi waited, wrestling with his indecision. They had set up their own radio channels almost immediately once they started working here so that they could talk freely, but he still worried about their employer listening in. Every once in awhile, he heard stories about what Hugo did to people who disappointed him. There was no way the stories could be true, but even if they were wildly exaggerated, he had no wish to run afoul of his employer.
But ... to be honest, he was wondering the same thing as Matias: was there still anyone in the wreckage? What were they trying to hide? He shook his head. It was none of his business. Just a burned out building.
“Just do the run, Matias. Alejandro, tell him it’s no problem.”
Alejandro chimed in dutifully, “He probably just wants to build a new castle, Matias, and he’s being dramatic about getting rid of the old one. You know how rich people are.”
“Right.” But Matias didn’t believe his two friends. And they didn’t believe themselves.
—
The facility was not abandoned, it was a graveyard. Stephen walked quickly and purposefully through the halls, trying to observe without emotion. He told himself that he had seen far worse than this during the French Revolution, during any number of the wars he had witnessed over the years.
But the truth was, when there was a massacre there was no better or worse. Every blood-soaked field, road, or town carried more suffering than the mind could encompass. There was no mistaking the fear and pain that had reigned here.
He would be the instrument of his Queen’s justice.
Never had Stephen been more proud of that, but he had also never been so keenly aware that justice would not bring back the lost. He saw the scientists where they lay, clearly trying to run from the beasts that had ripped their spines out and raked gashes through their bodies.
He saw the bodies of the Wechselbalg as well, felled by silver bullets. In the stillness of death, it was clear how emaciated they were. Some had changed back before they died and their human bodies bore bruises, cuts, and far too many scars.
They had brought their own justice to their tormentors, but it hadn’t been enough, and they had died doing it. No one spoke. His companions were turning the bodies over, sometimes flinching away from the sight of a familiar face.
“Have you found—”
“No.” Stoyan was shaking. There were bodies burned beyond recognition. He would never know if Irina was one of those. He tried to pi
cture a wolf breaking free of the carnage and slipping away, but he knew how unlikely that was.
With no way to know how many Wechselbalg had been at this facility, he could not even count the bodies to know if Irina was here.
“You have to listen to me.” Stephen looked him dead in the eyes. “Irina was not the only one of your kin here.”
