by Gaja J. Kos
“Brent,” I barked. “I have a gravely injured werewolf victim, human, in urgent need of medical assistance.”
I rattled out the directions and, as soon as Stein confirmed he was on his way, rushed back to the man and grabbed hold of the now-soaked towel just as his hand dropped away.
The minutes dragged on like entire lifetimes.
The more blood the man lost, the more the aroma of death oozed from his body. I wanted to do something, anything, but stanching the bleeding was the only thing I had in my arsenal. Fuck, I should have taken Finn with me. With his magic—
The man’s breaths turned labored. Rattling.
Where the fuck was Stein?
The house shouldn’t be that hard to find…
I chewed on my lip, but right as those doubts gnawed more viciously on my brain, the tall ME swept into the room. Instantly, the vic relaxed, engulfed by Stein’s unique soothing power.
“I’ll take it from here.” Energy simmered around Stein’s form, and I moved out of the way to give him access. “The medics are on their way. Go hunt your wolf.”
He didn’t have to say it twice.
If she was still on the move, it was more imperative than ever to find her. This victim might not be her last.
Once outside, I shifted shape, then pushed my awareness past the overwhelming scent of the man’s blood until I found the trace I was looking for. The street bore several early risers that gave me a wide berth as I tore down south. I headed straight for a few more moments, then skidded right onto the main road when the wolf’s scent turned abruptly. Slowing down, I padded forward.
Exhaust fumes fucked with the thread, and for a second, I thought this was it. That I’d lost the scent, just like all the times before.
Then a prickling of it disturbed my senses.
I latched on to the fucker with all I had and let it guide my body on autopilot, past the parked cars and sporadic baby trees shimmying in the breeze. Halfway down the street, the track veered sharply left. My hackles rose.
The front door of a multi-apartment building gaped at me.
Shit, shit, shit.
There was no way I could wait for backup. Not when the wolf was in there, along with who knew how many civilians who’d start dribbling out of their apartments.
Snarling, I ran inside, but when I lunged up the stairs, the scent yanked me around like a leash. I descended into the shadowed basement, then muzzled my way through the unlocked door.
My eyes needed a second to adjust to the darkness rolling out ahead of me, but the wolf’s scent permeated the space with such ferocity there was no doubt in my mind she was here. Here and—
I paused, one paw lifted in the air.
My gaze landed on a now-human figure, a young woman who couldn’t have been more than twenty-two, huddled in the darkest corner, and the urge to shift back to human form slapped me hard.
This was wrong.
This was all wrong.
The wolf—
She was sobbing.
Unable to keep the urge at bay any longer, I shifted, then carefully maneuvered across the cool concrete on bare feet. The werewolf was muttering something, rocking back and forth, her hands wrapped so tightly around her naked body you’d think she was afraid of coming apart at the seams.
“Couldn’t… This…. Chain… Will work…”
Her mumbled words hit my ears, and when I took her in better, I realized she wasn’t just hugging her body.
She’d chained herself.
My hip grazed the jutting handle of a bicycle, and the wolf jerked. She stared at me, then whimpered.
Terror flooded the basement.
What the fuck was happening?
I placed my right foot forward—
“Get back,” she screeched. “Get away from me!”
I dragged my gaze along the bicycle chains digging into her skin, the sweaty, matted hair plastered to her forehead. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
But the girl only sobbed harder.
A hint of an impending shift stained the air.
“I’ll hurt you,” she yelled, her eyes shut and body rocking. “I’ll hurt you, I’ll hurt you, I’ll hurt you…”
Without even meaning to, I took a step closer.
The girl’s head snapped up, and the frenzied look in her eyes as the charge of her shift climbed to tipping levels froze me in place.
She choked on a harsh sob. “I can’t control it.”
Chapter 2
I can’t control it.
The words, an almost exact echo of a cry for help that had scarred my heart many, many years ago, ricocheted inside my skull and shook me raw. I fought to stay in the present, but the memory hijacked my mind with a force I was no match for.
Dominik’s struggle—first silent, then a battle he could no longer hide. But also one he couldn’t win.
The violence that exploded along with his wolf.
My aunts’ fear.
Their blood staining what should have been a lovely fall evening.
My own terror of hurting my brother, made worse by the realization that if I didn’t, my aunts and I would end up dead.
My mouth went dry, and although my eyes registered the movement in the shadowed corner, I was a passenger in my immobile body, held captive by the impossible.
The curse.
Dominik wasn’t the only one bearing the curse. Not anymore.
When the wretched memory kicked off into another infernal replay and threatened to drag me deeper into its putrid nest, that thick sensation of a shift that had saturated the air on my aunts’ porch seeped into reality.
The binds broke.
Mine. The wolf’s.
I threw up an arm just as the fully shifted girl lunged. Her teeth sank into my flesh all the way to the bone.
Rotating with the sheer force of her attack, I groaned, then punched her in the soft spot on her stomach. The move had the desired effect, because I was able to shake myself free without ripping the tendons in my arm worse than they already were. The wolf knocked down several bikes as she landed on her side but picked herself up the next second, teeth bared.
My inner fighter, who wouldn’t bat an eye at doing whatever the fuck it took to keep me breathing, rose to the surface, but, shit, if this really was the curse, I couldn’t kill the girl. She needed help, not a godsdamned death sentence.
But with zero tools to incapacitate and restrain her at my disposal, I’d have to improvise pretty fucking well to get us both out of this alive.
When she came at me, I twisted away, then grabbed hold of a sturdy supply cabinet and raised my feet off the ground. My injured arm protested the strain but, thankfully, held. Not realizing what I was up to or not caring, the wolf gunned straight for me again. I kicked away from the cabinet with as much force as I could muster and threw myself at her as if I were leaping across buildings.
We clashed.
The impact jarred me, but despite the pain shooting up my arm, I grabbed hold of the wolf and rode her body to the ground, then jumped off the last second, before she skidded straight into the pile of bikes.
She let out a growling yelp and shook herself, but the move I pulled had barely bruised her, let alone done enough damage to give me a leg up.
I needed more strength. More power. But with the girl in a murderous frenzy, I couldn’t do the one thing that would level the playing field. I couldn’t shift.
If I turned, that brief moment as I transitioned between human and wolf would present the perfect opportunity for her to rip out my throat.
Not shifting, though, meant I was left standing butt naked and weaponless in front of a werewolf whose mind had gone wholly and utterly red.
A growl trickled from between the girl’s sharp teeth, and her hind legs tensed. Shit. I lunged for the rusty shovel resting against the wall, then swung with all my might, catching the wolf mid-jump. She whimper-snarled and hit the freestanding industrial lockers blocking off the north side of the basemen
t. The metal dented, but as soon as her paws hit the ground, she charged at me again.
Pouring as much assertive energy as I could muster into the atmosphere, I brandished the shovel. Though, really, I should have known better than to hope a power display would change the wolf’s mind. Like my brother, with the curse in the driver’s seat, no reason or instinct could get in the way of her kill.
I dared a quick, discreet glance around the basement.
Maybe I had a plan. Maybe there was a way to contain her.
I just wasn’t quite sure how to pull it off…
The wolf snarled, saliva flying. My mind still raced, churning through the possibilities, when the wolf pushed off the ground with explosive strength. I brought the shovel up—just in time to block her bite—but failed to cast her off. She crunched down on the handle, riding gravity until the wood snapped.
Cursing, I thrust out with the bottom part of the shovel just to give myself some maneuvering space. She shifted back—not much, but enough. I threw away the bottom part of the shovel, aiming at the wolf’s side to get her to back off just a touch more, then flipped the broken handle I’d held on to, gripping it like a godsdamned stake.
I circled left. The wolf went right.
Good.
I needed to get my fucking back to the door. The basement had only one exit. Locking her in and fortifying the door was my only shot at getting the outcome I wanted.
Just as I almost cleared my path, the wolf caught on to my plan.
Whether it was my scent that gave me away or something else entirely, the wolf was having none of my shit. Her large wolf body barreled into me, and she chomped down on my pitiful stick before I could as much as scrape her fur.
My back hit the ground.
I brought an arm to the werewolf’s throat, digging in as viciously as I could, while at the same time, I kneed her in the stomach and used my free hand to pat around for anything I could use as a weapon. The wolf coughed but kept snapping at my neck, her saliva dripping wet-hot on my face.
And those teeth…
They were getting closer and closer to my jugular.
Her foul breath clogged my nostrils, and the muscles in my arms burned as I kept shoving back at her throat with one forearm. Giving up on my search, I pressed my other hand hard against her sternum. But I was no match for a wolf amped up on magic.
The tips of her teeth swiped the skin on my neck—
Footsteps thundered toward the basement.
The wolf’s ears twitched, and she looked up.
I shoved at her with all I had.
She skidded off me, and I scrambled away just as Finn and two more agents burst into the room.
“Don’t kill her,” I yelled, panting.
Though no one questioned my command outright, their confusion tinted the air, then vanished as Finn’s magic shot for the wolf.
She ducked aside and went for Hein, the agent who, following Finn’s lead, tried to box her in. I grabbed hold of the nearest bicycle. When she came within reach, searching for an opening to get to Hein, I hurtled the damn thing her way. She leaped, but, distracted as she’d been, she wasn’t fast enough.
One of her paws caught between the spikes of the wheel.
Hein contained her bodily while Blasberg vamp-blurred forward to secure her in a premium-grade collar and chains and Finn sent a flurry of magic around her form. The wolf thrashed and snarled, then, with another blast of Finn’s magic, fell silent.
Knocked out, but not dead.
As the two agents busied themselves with the chains, I climbed to my feet and met my partner.
Finn shrugged out of his jean shirt and offered it to me, a twinkle pirouetting in his forest-green eyes. “You’re welcome.”
A breathless laugh bubbled from my lips. I took the shirt, then slipped my arms into its sleeves and wrapped myself in its comfort.
“How did you know?” I eyed the unconscious werewolf, my attention lingering on the collar.
We didn’t usually trot around bearing heavy-duty equipment for containing wolves—Finn and I hadn’t even taken any with us when we’d gone to inspect the scene since, firstly, we never had much luck tracking her down, and, secondly, a werewolf who’d killed as many as this girl fell into the kill-on-sight category, not a capture mission.
Silently, I thanked the gods events had turned out as they had.
“How did I know you’d need a cowboy to come in and lasso your suspect?” A very much welcome grin stretched on Finn’s face. “My tarot cards tipped me off.”
“You mean Stein?” I raised an eyebrow and rubbed my palms down my arms, though there was no real chill to scatter.
“Yeah. He said you went after the wolf.” Finn dipped his gaze to the still-shifted girl. “You’ve never held on to her scent for so long. I know I could’ve made a total fool of myself, rushing in all guns blazing, hero-squad mode only to find you fuming because you lost her, but, hey, that was a chance I was willing to take.”
“Thanks.” I hugged myself tighter. “But that still doesn’t explain the collar and chains.”
Finn pursed his lips, his gaze turning distant for a moment. “Intuition, I guess. When I called Blasberg to come back me up, I just blurted to bring the gear.”
“I really fucking love you, you know that, right?” I shifted closer to bump my shoulder into his.
His chuckle reverberated through my body. “I do.”
I allowed myself one last moment of drinking in the magic and energy that was pure Finn, then sucked in a deep breath and lowered my voice as I said, “But it looks like catching her was the least of our problems.”
Finn monitored Blasberg and Hain, who carried the wolf out of the basement. Once they were clear and the only trace of what went down were the lingering scents and the mess of a basement, he faced me, brows drawn.
“What’s wrong, Gin?”
“I think…” I grumble-sighed. “No, not think. I’m pretty damn sure this wolf has the same curse as Dominik.”
Even seated in my usual chair in the middle of the interrogation room, the additional layers of wards set around the space pressed on my skin like clothing that was just a little too tight to not have it constantly pull on my awareness. Beside me, the wolf—twenty-one-year-old Emilia Knothe—was heavily bound by physical and metaphysical means, though, unlike the majority of our suspects, the binds seemed to bring her peace.
Finn spread five files on the desk before flipping them open one after the other. The last was the thickest, detailing last night’s slaughters by the van, at the twin house, and the subsequent assault. No photos, though.
While we had to ask her about the deaths, we didn’t have to be cruel about it.
Finding the most comforting voice I could, I gestured to the first report and said, “Voss Daniel, attacked and killed during his evening run on July 5th.” I moved on to the second, “Achler Franziska, Folger Roman, and Meinke Axel, attacked at their bar after closing on July 12th.”
Emilia pressed her lips together, gazing at the files, but her energy didn’t crash against the magical constraints.
Not wanting to drag this out longer than I absolutely had to, I pressed on. “On July 29th, Zabel Rene and Birke Jan were attacked and killed after what we presume had been a meeting with business investors. Then on August 10th, Erik Beck in his own backyard.”
Finn’s silent monitoring brushed against the edges of my awareness, but while Emilia had visibly paled and a tear rolled down her cheek, she held herself together.
“And finally”—I gestured to the thickest file—“last night. Oliver Hellwig and Peter Junker, killed by their van when they pulled to the side of the road. All seven people present at the party at Sven Torges’s house. Then Kathi Sallach and Kraft Luca, attacked next door. And, lastly, Tobias Biegert, who survived an attack he confirmed was perpetrated by a brown werewolf with a blotch of white on her muzzle.”
The names of the victims seemed to thicken the already heavy air. I paused f
or a moment to give Emilia the time to process it all, but not so much that the information could consume her.
I shot a discreet glance at Finn, who nodded, then laced my fingers together, wrists balanced on the edge of the table, and said, “All these incidents bore your scent, Emilia. Biegert’s description fits your wolf form, and once we get the ME’s report, I’m fairly certain the wounds on the victims will match your bite too. I understand you can’t control your shift, but you did try to chain yourself when I found you. If you knew this was happening, that you were losing control and hurting people, why didn’t you seek assistance earlier?”
“C—couldn’t.” She wiped her wet cheek on her shoulder and shuddered. “I didn’t know… Not until after. I didn’t know it was me.”
Finn and I exchanged a look. I got not remembering what you did, but with the state she’d left her victims in…
The kills had been too messy. Too violent.
Not even wolf fur and a shift would have been able to get rid of all the evidence.
And she did say after.
“You didn’t think something was wrong when you regained consciousness covered in blood? On multiple occasions?” I asked, amping up my sensors to pick up on a potential lie.
What I got hit with, though, was a vicious meld of fury and distress.
“They cleaned me,” Emilia whispered, but her voice wasn’t frail. It was a hissing, snapping sound that blazed within the impressive confines she’d laid upon it. “They cleaned me every time, so I didn’t know.”
“Who cleaned you, Emilia?” Finn braced his forearms on the desk and leaned forward.
Emilia sniffed, then closed her eyes, reining in some of the fury that had started to graze against the magic preventing her from shifting. “The people who took me and locked me up.”
Chapter 3
“Excuse us for a moment,” I said to Emilia in a voice that was a touch too tight to truly mask just how off guard her statement had caught me.
She didn’t seem to notice or care, though, her body sunken into itself and those sharp edges of fury-filled wounds spiking her scent. Part of me hated leaving her with whatever memories snapped at her mind, but—I looked at Finn and angled my head toward the door—comfort was something that came second in our line of work.
