To Hell And Back_A Kurtherian Gambit Series

by Natalie Grey

  Ten seconds until the patrol came around again.

  When he got out, he didn’t even know which direction he would go. If he set out into the wilderness, he might confound anyone looking for him. On the other hand, the reason they would expect him to go into town was that it was the only sensible thing to do in the middle of winter. He didn’t have cold weather gear, a map, or supplies.

  The patrol should appear in...

  He frowned, took a deep breath. Counted to three. Counted to three again.

  They had never been this late.

  Had there been a shift change? He shifted his gun in his hands anxiously and felt himself begin to shake. Where was the patrol? He hadn’t heard the stairwell door open and close, or footsteps on the metal. None of the building’s alarms blared.

  Maybe they were testing him, teasing him. Maybe they thought it was funny how he was holed up in here. Nikhil grimaced.

  But fear was a strong motivator. Carefully, so carefully that he hardly made a sound, Nikhil crawled toward the door.

  He couldn’t hear anything outside. No footsteps. Half his brain insisted that the patrol was dead, and the other half told him not to be ridiculous. The group hadn’t come back to the gates, and he’d placed people at every window to watch the walls.

  There was no way anyone was getting in here without him knowing about it.

  He silently rose to look out the little window and saw nothing. Then he opened the door as quietly as he could and peeked into the hallway. Still, he saw nothing, so he took a few steps out, trying to listen over the sound of his heart.

  He decided to go to the right first. He peered into the stairwell and saw nothing—nothing, nothing, always nothing—and then looked down the hall.

  He froze.

  The guards were dead. They had been killed so quietly that he hadn’t heard them, and there were puddles of blood spreading out beneath their bodies.

  A scream built in his throat as he scrambled for the door of his office. He had to get the door locked, he had to be safe, he had to get to the panic button—

  He was slammed sideways as he entered the room. The gun went skittering away across the floor, and he flipped, landing on the floor on his shoulder. Hands forced him down and then wrenched his head up.

  A brown-haired man sat behind Nikhil’s desk. His clothing was neat and fashionable, his features handsome and clear-cut, his smile genuinely amused as he watched Nikhil laid out on the floor. He tilted his head to the side as Nikhil panted in abject terror.

  “Hello,” said the man. “Administrator Zhaparov, I presume?”

  Jennifer held the administrator down on the floor, his arm twisted behind his back. For someone holed up in an office with a dozen loaded guns, he’d been surprisingly easy to take down.

  This was the guy who wanted to leave the rest of the facility to die while he escaped? It seemed that intention and ability were very separate things in this case. The man was practically reduced to jelly, shaking on the floor as he tried to crane his head to see Jennifer.

  She kept her fingers clenched in his hair, and his face turned firmly toward Stephen.

  “Do you know why I am here?” Stephen asked the man. He had stopped looking at the administrator and was examining the panic button—now severed from any connecting wires. He looked back at the man.

  “N-no,” the man stammered, beginning to cry.

  “I am here,” Stephen explained plainly, “because you have engaged in the systematic torture of dozens of people.”

  There was a long pause.

  “You’re not even going to attempt to deny it?” That would be somewhat refreshing.

  “I knew you weren’t from Hugo,” the man whispered. “I knew this was all a trap. What did you do to him?”

  Stephen nodded over his head at Jennifer.

  “I tore him limb from limb,” Jennifer replied. She tilted her head to look at the man. “You see, I can shift into a wolf, too.”

  The man gave an involuntary scream.

  “Now, now. There’s no need for that.” Stephen drummed his fingers on the desk. “So, let us talk about what you did under Hugo’s orders, hmm? You attempted to force Wechselbalg to shift into their wolf forms and take orders—both of which would be considered gravely immoral. Why did you feel justified in doing so?”

  “They aren’t human,” the man gasped out. He remembered too late that Jennifer was the one holding him down and gave a gulp of terror. “They aren’t the same as—oh, god, you’re one of them, too, aren’t you?”

  Stephen let his eyes deepen to red, the claws extend from his fingertips, and his fangs grow. Just for a moment, and then he faded back to his normal self.

  “No,” he replied simply.

  The man was sobbing now.

  “What, no justification? No courage? No acknowledgment?” Stephen stood up and strolled from behind the desk. “You’re the last one, did you know that? Every one of your fellow administrators is dead. A few scientists and guards dared to defy their orders and put their lives on the line to help the shifters, but I’m certain you didn’t.

  “So, are you going to tell me again that it was all justified because someone in power gave you the right to hack people open and give them commands that you enforce with torture? Or are you going to tell me what Hugo did: that most of the world is simply meant to take orders? Or something else, perhaps?

  “Why did you do it?”

  The man let his head rest against the floor for a moment before he craned his neck to look at Stephen again.

  “No progress has ever been made without suffering,” he replied. “How do you think we’ve found cancer treatments and weapons and all of that? It’s just how it is. You can stand aside and not do it, but it will still get done. I didn’t care about any of Hugo’s ideas about nobles and commoners, but why shouldn’t I be the one making money if he was only going to get someone else when I said no?”

  There was not even a moment of realization in his eyes as Jennifer cut his throat in one quick movement.

  She let his body drop to the floor and stood, her face impassive as she stared down at him.

  “He wasn’t going to say anything useful,” she told Stephen flatly. Her body shook. “Someone else will torture people, so why shouldn’t I get paid to do it? This whole thing makes me sick,” she whispered.

  Stephen wrapped her in his arms.

  He had never meant to upset her by drawing this out. Thoughtless cruelty seemed a more malevolent force than all the willful evil in the world.

  “Come on.” He sighed. “Let’s finish this and go home.”

  Jennifer leaned against him, taking comfort in the feel of her face pressed up against his chest and the strength of his arms around her.

  “I didn’t ask him to speak because—” Stephen began, but she cut him off with a smile and a finger over his lips.

  “I know why you asked,” she told him. “Deep down, some part of you still wants the world to be a good place. And maybe sometimes it is. But sometimes we have to fight to make it that way.” She laced her fingers through his. “Come on. You were right. Let’s finish it and go home.”

  17

  Naftalan, Azerbaijan

  “Are you sure about this?” Stephen asked Jennifer in an undertone.

  The last Pod was loading. Stoyan helped Arisha and Hsu into it. The rest of the Wechselbalg, including Zurya, had already left for the ArchAngel, along with a shell-shocked young scientist who the Wechselbalg had pointed out as a kind member of the team.

  The woman had apparently been locked in a cage herself, ready to be used as the bait in one of the experiments—this was after she had tried to stage an escape.

  That sort of courage was inspiring when you remembered that she was aware that had she allowed other people to suffer, she could survive.

  Perhaps she would sign on with TQB.

  Stephen looked at Jennifer now, nodding to the Pod when she frowned. “You could go back up there, take a nice bath
, I’ll handle everything at Naftalan and—”

  “I’m fine, really.” Jennifer smiled up at him. “I’m sorry I got all flustered.”

  “Nothing to apologize for when you’re dealing with sociopathic mass murderers,” Stephen pointed out. “It’s a distressing subject.”

  Jennifer gave a chuckle and waved to the inhabitants of the Pod as the door slid closed.

  “So,” Irina spoke from behind them. She was bouncing on the balls of her feet, impatient to get going. “Let’s go talk some sense into this man.”

  “You’re very hopeful,” Jennifer observed. “You really think he’ll be reasonable? He’s probably found out about Khachmaz at this point.”

  “He wants revenge,” Irina said, lifting her shoulder. “But this isn’t the heat of the moment, is it? It’s not like when the red comes down over your eyes, and you can’t think of anything except tearing a person to shreds. He’s had days to calm down.”

  Stephen was skeptical.

  Still, he wanted Irina here. Jennifer had only faced the forced transformation once, and by accident. Irina was the one who could fully empathize with Emeric. She might be able to change his mind in a way no one else could.

  “Let’s go, then.” A Pod descended, and they climbed in.

  Behind them, the bodies were being taken away, but Stephen did not even turn to watch.

  Finally, it was over.

  Sofia, Bulgaria

  It was perhaps two hours later that Dedov hunched over a mug of some mulled drink, letting his hands thaw.

  He was still on a high from going into the bombed-out building, and not even his aching feet or bruised limbs could take that away. The walk back in the snow, despite the growing dark and cold, had been filled with moments when he wanted to laugh aloud.

  Was this why Arisha did what she did? This high? Dedov could never imagine sitting in an office all day again. He’d go mad.

  Milen returned from the bar with a plate of dumplings, a basket of brown bread, and a mug of tea for himself.

  He looked more serious than Dedov did, almost pensive.

  He sat down and chewed on a bite of brown bread thoughtfully.

  “There were rumors,” he said finally. “About Stoyan. Rumors that he wasn’t quite normal. That he...” The man broke off and continued chewing.

  “Which one was Stoyan?” Dedov was having trouble tracking the names through the man’s thick accent. Bulgarians, it seemed, could not be relied upon to speak good Russian anymore.

  “Stoyan was the muscle Filip brought in,” Milen explained. “It was for a meeting with an American who was staying at the Hotel Sofia.”

  “Arisha talked about that hotel,” Dedov interjected eagerly.

  “Oh? Did she talk about the King Suite?” Milen asked sarcastically.

  “Actually…yes.” Dedov nodded. “She did. I assumed—well, how expensive is that suite?”

  “More than a reporter can afford,” Milen replied. “And the American was staying there, so if she said she saw it, then she saw him. And he saw Filip—I think, anyway, because Filip disappeared after going to that meeting.”

  “With Stoyan,” Dedov clarified. “Who you think is…crazy?”

  “Oh, no, not crazy.” Milen shook his head. “There are many old rumors around here, rumors of people who can turn into beasts. Like the stories about the big wolves in the forest your grandmother used to tell you when you wouldn’t eat your potatoes.”

  Dedov snorted amusement. He took a dumpling and chewed, wishing he had a nice vodka to wash it down, but enjoying the warmth from the mulled wine too much to let the cup go.

  “Let me guess,” Milen shot back. “You told your grandma you were too old for those stories, and she told you that you were a stupid little boy who didn’t know anything about the world.”

  “Yes, actually.” Dedov took a sip of his wine. “I guess grandmas aren’t so different here, huh?”

  “No.” But Milen looked serious. “And I’m beginning to think maybe they’re right about those things.”

  “What?” Dedov forced a laugh. The man was going mad, clearly.

  “Listen.” Milen leaned in. “You told me you saw, with your own eyes, wolves that were too big to be natural. You said you saw them. You saw the claw marks and how they’d killed people. So, if the wolves are real, why not the rest of it?”

  “Maybe the wolves were made in a lab,” Dedov said awkwardly. He didn’t like this. The back of his neck was prickling. “Like those chickens that are so big.”

  “Then why have there been stories about them for centuries?” Milen demanded. “I told myself I was crazy, but then you saw them, and you don’t believe in them, either! So, you give me a better explanation that accounts for all of this. Because right now it looks like Stoyan’s one of those shifters—the ones who become giant wolves.”

  “That’s crazy,” Dedov stated flatly. He held up a hand to stave off his companion’s protest. “Look, I’ll give you the fact that the wolf was too big. Arisha was even looking into that. Maybe they’re natural, maybe they’re not. But the idea that just because I saw a big wolf, we have to believe they’re also shifters? It’s too much.”

  “Then ask your friend,” Milen suggested. He jerked his head at Dedov’s phone. “Just do this one thing. Tell her you’ve been looking into her research, and you think you’ve found the same thing. Tell her about the facility. And don’t say you found wolves, say you found shifters. See what she says.”

  “What if she thinks I’m crazy?”

  “Say you misspoke.” Milen lifted a shoulder carelessly. “Get home and say you’d been drinking too much vodka with your babushka. I don’t care. Just ask.”

  Dedov thought back to the old stories, to the way the world had seemed wild and dangerous when he was younger. It was the way he’d felt today, climbing into the darkness of the building, seeing the body of a beast that couldn’t exist.

  It felt right, somehow. More real than real life.

  “Fine.” He picked up his cell phone and dialed Arisha’s number.

  “Da?” She picked up after two rings.

  “Arisha.” Dedov smiled. “It’s Dedov.”

  Naftalan, Azerbaijan

  The sun had gone down by the time they arrived at Naftalan. They were able to land on the main grounds of the facility this time, so they didn’t have to duck through the trees to try to approach invisibly.

  “It’s a bit nice being back here,” Stephen said quietly. He shrugged. “I like it better when it’s quiet, anyway.”

  “Were there any here who were…who did good things?” Irina looked around. The bodies had been taken away, a fact that chilled her somewhat even if she understood the necessity. She found herself hoping that someone here had been like Hsu.

  “Four guards,” Stephen said. He sounded impressed. “They volunteered for night shifts, and every night they would come and check on people, give them medical treatment, check on the children for the parents. They couldn’t save many, but they were stockpiling supplies in the basement to try to make a run for it with the shifters.”

  Irina smiled. “That’s good.”

  She would thank them when she returned to the ArchAngel. She always thanked the ones who had helped, although the woman from Naryn had been so terrified that Irina didn’t want to give her a heart attack by shaking her hand.

  The facility was eerily quiet, however. Their footsteps echoed on dirty floors, the wind whistled strangely through the halls—no one had thought to close the doors when they left—and the blinking computer screens, the last remnant of systems downloaded, wiped, and scrubbed by ADAM, made the light flicker.

  “Do you think he’s actually coming?” Jennifer asked as they climbed the stairs. She considered. “Or maybe he’s going to ambush us.”

  “He’s welcome to try,” Stephen replied with a grin. “That would eliminate all doubt about how nice I should be to him.”

  “He’s not there?” Bethany Anne asked.

&nb
sp; “No,” Stephen subvocalized. “At least as far as we can tell. There’s no vehicle nearby, and none approaching.”

  “It’s not possible that someone could have gotten in and out without ADAM noticing, is it?” Bethany Anne asked. She hesitated. “Unless—"

  “Unless one of the others from the local group stayed,” Stephen said quietly. “I’d have noticed Emeric if he was here, but what if he’s just sending an emissary?”

  “That Sidonie woman, maybe?”

  “I’d have recognized her, too.” Stephen frowned.

  There was nothing as they made their way through the corridors. They checked each room, listening for sound despite ADAM’s assurances that their bodies were the only warmth in the building.

  Then they reached the administrator’s office.

  The note lay folded on the desk, a single slip of white paper that had not been there when Stephen left the facility.

  It was never your place to come here, the note read. You betrayed the bargain. You betrayed those who should have been able to have their own revenge. But you have already lost. Your methods have made the people of the Unknown World your enemies. They know now what you have denied them. They know now that you cannot protect them.

  They will not be denied. Watch the storm you have created, for you are powerless to stop it. –E

  Stephen folded the note and looked at Irina, who only shook her head.

  “Why does he think humans have courts and lawyers and jails? The government cannot always protect you. Sometimes the most it can do is punish those who did the wrong thing.”

  “I think he’s far beyond that kind of logic now,” Jennifer replied. She shrugged. “On the plus side, we got all of them. He didn’t manage to get to one of these facilities before we did, and we were able to talk those he did get to into joining our side.”

  “That’s it!” Stephen looked around at her.

  “What? What’s ‘it’?”