I leap over the front tire, hit the packed snow on the other side, and barrel down the sidewalk. White flakes whipping through the air tug at my attention, but the only places I look are straight ahead at the drop box and to where the Wolves are scrambling for cover behind their own vehicles. Ten stark naked men and women, breasts and penises bouncing every which way, fleeing for safety as Ella fires again and again. If I wasn’t at risk of being murdered right now, I’d laugh at the sheer awkwardness of this scenario. Naked people streaking through the snow.
As it is…
I slide to a stop behind the drop box and then immediately peek around the edge as Ella continues her onslaught. One of her rounds catches a woman in the shoulder, and a spray of red paints the snow in midair. The woman shrieks, a savage sound, and staggers around the end of one of the trucks.
A moment later, a man who’d run for cover storms out from behind the same truck, his face twisted in fury. It’s hard to gauge from the distance between us, with the snow partially blocking my vision, but I swear I see the telltale signs of a personal attack brimming in the Wolf’s angry eyes.
The injured woman is someone important. Girlfriend? Wife? Sister?
Whoever she is, her wound sets the man off. He throws his head back and honest-to-god howls into the blizzard. At first, the wind swallows the sound, frail and human as it is. But then, out of nowhere, the sound transforms from a weak human cry to something feral and haunting. Animalistic. The man’s head snaps down, feverish gaze trained on Ella, who’s busy replacing her magazine, and the moment she dares to make eye contact—he charges.
I swing my gun toward him, but it’s too late.
He leaps into the air a man and lands on the snow as a massive brown Wolf. Then he lunges toward the overturned SUV, teeth bared, jaws ready to rip Ella’s head right off her shoulders. She clips her magazine into place and lifts her gun, but the Wolf is moving too fast for a bullet to stop.
And it isn’t a bullet that stops him.
The driver’s side window of the SUV blasts outward, ramming into the Wolf’s chest. He tumbles away into the snow, then scrambles to get back on his feet. But the snow is so deep and fine that he sinks, and by the time he finally rights himself, the fury of a DSI elite is raining down upon him.
Amy Sugawara barrels out of the SUV with a fistful of fire. She throws a punch at the Wolf’s face, screaming, “Don’t touch my teammate, you bitch!” The instant before her fist makes contact, she releases the full charge of the fire ring on her index finger.
An enormous ball of flame bursts out of the ring, swallows the Wolf, and flings all four hundred pounds of him ten feet through the air. He brutally bounces off the snow twice and then careens into the side of one of the pickup trucks. With so much force the vehicle slides backward across the intersection.
The Wolf doesn’t get up. His singed, smoking form spasms, and then his transformation reverses. Lying in the animal’s place is a nude man with horrific third-degree burns.
Amy comes to a stop halfway between our SUV and their trucks, huffing and puffing. Her ring backfired into her hand, and her burnt fingers drip blood onto the snow. Through heavy breaths, she declares, “I already lost one friend this year. I’m not losing another.”
A flicker of sadness crosses Ella’s face at the mention of Norman Bishop, but she doesn’t let it linger. Steeling herself, she clambers over the SUV and hops off the front tire, landing next to Amy on the battlefield. “Damn straight,” she says. “Let’s take these assholes down.”
The Wolves regroup. Several of them emerge from behind the trucks already transformed, many enraged at the sight of their fallen comrade, burned black and motionless on the snow. Possibly dead. (Possibly not. It’s extremely hard to kill Wolves unless you’re packing silver. And we, unfortunately, aren’t. Most of these bastards will recover from their wounds, in a fraction of the time a human would.)
Amy whips her gun out of her holster with her burnt hand, unfazed by the pain. “Bring it on!” she shouts at the Wolves. “You come at us, you’re not getting out of here in one piece.”
She’s true to her word.
Five Wolves charge. All go down.
Amy pops off shots more accurate than the average sniper’s. One Wolf takes a bullet to the face, collapsing mid-stride. Another gets nailed in the side and starts bleeding out. A third gets a few paces closer before Amy shoots his leg out from under him, and he’s going so fast that he can’t stop himself before he rams into the side of the overturned SUV. His skull breaks wide open with a sickening crack.
Ella’s no lightweight either. The fourth and fifth Wolves attack her simultaneously from two different directions, but a bullet to the chest brings one down. The other is blown away when Ella charges her own beggar rings and releases the most powerful force blast you can possibly use. The force wave smacks the Wolf in the head, knocking teeth out of his mouth, smashing his jaw to pieces, nearly ripping his eyes from their sockets. He flies sideways into a snow bank and doesn’t recover.
The whole time this is happening, I’m cowering behind the USPS box with my mouth hanging open. I thought I was at least a minor badass for zapping Charun that one time in Holden Park. But here are Amy and Ella absolutely dominating an entire pack of Wolves by themselves. Holy hell. Is this what years of experience gets you at DSI? Can’t believe that—
Movement. I turn my attention to the damaged Ford pickup. The guy with the shotgun, still in human form, is peeking out from behind the tailgate, gun aimed at the two women wiping the snowy streets with his companions. He narrows his eyes and tightens his grip on the trigger.
Yeah, screw that.
I raise my gun and left off two shots. One goes wide but throws off his concentration. The other cuts a chunk out of his shoulder. Swearing, he scurries back behind his truck.
I keep my gun trained on his position in case he gets the same idea again. Don’t want any cheap shots hurting my awesome teammates when…
A shadow falls over me.
I look up just in time to see two Wolves lope off the roof of the department store behind me. I act on impulse. Bring up my right hand. Charge my rings. Shoot a burst of electricity at the oncoming Wolves.
But the first one takes the brunt of the blast intentionally and spirals away, slamming into the sidewalk. While the second one plows into my chest.
It’s like a bullet train hitting a smart car at full speed.
I fly back into the drop box. My head cracks against the metal. White static fills my vision, and I lose control of my limbs.
Distorted chaos beats against my eardrums. I hear my name shouted several times. I hear the shattering of glass. I hear screams. I hear sirens. I hear gunshots. I hear howls. All of it mashed together into an unintelligible muck.
Then someone grabs me by the arm and hauls me up. My vision is still swimming, so I don’t know if they’re friend or foe. Whoever it is slings me over their shoulder and takes off running for god knows where.
A minute later, I’m tossed like a ragdoll into the back seat of a vehicle. And someone else is then thrown carelessly on top of me. Someone who’s bleeding from a nasty head wound.
I finally put it together: the Wolves have kidnapped me and Liam Calvary.
And with that in mind, I faint.
Chapter Twelve
Somebody shakes me awake. I wrench my eyes open, lids heavy like lead, and stare idly at the back of a car seat until my brain kicks into motion. Wolf attack. Kidnapping. Me. Liam. In danger.
I’m slumped awkwardly in the truck’s back seat, and when I untangle my limbs and sit up, my head swims like a violent wave pool. I have to bite my tongue to stop bile from rising in my throat. My hand flies up to the back of my head—sticky and warm. Blood.
Between the headache, the dizziness, and the nausea, I almost certainly have a concussion. But there’s nothing I can do about it right now. Because, according to the view of trees, trees, and more trees outside the window of the truck, I’m curr
ently in the middle of nowhere.
The two front doors of the truck are both open, the seats empty. Through the haze of fog on the windshield, I see the blurry forms of two nude men talking to a trio of clothed people. The Wolves who drove the getaway truck must have rendezvoused with whoever ordered the attack on our SUV. One of the people in the clothed group must be the ringleader. And for some reason, this leader decided to kidnap two Crows working the Jameson case.
This bodes well…
Sucking in a sharp breath through clenched teeth, I finally glance to my left. Liam is curled up on the opposite side of the truck, his face covered in half-dried blood. One of his eyes has swollen up like someone punched him, and there’s a tear in his bottom lip that’ll need stitches. He’s hugging himself tight with one arm, knees drawn up to his chin. His other arm is still hovering in the space between us, quivering uncontrollably, ready to shake me again in case I pass out.
“Are you all right?” I whisper to Liam. Wolves have better hearing than humans, even when not in animal form. “How long were you out?” Liam was knocked unconscious during the SUV crash. If we’ve been driving out of town for five, ten minutes—or longer—and he woke up just before I did, his concussion is probably far worse than mine.
Liam blinks at me slowly, and even in the dreary light, I can see his pupils aren’t reacting at the same rate. After a long moment of silence, he parts his lips to reply, but his words are so slurred I can’t even make out a coherent message.
He needs immediate medical attention. Somehow, I have to get us out of this mess, fast. If the pressure in his brain stays too high for too long, it could cause irreparable brain damage. He could end up a vegetable, for fuck’s sake.
Damn it. If only I hadn’t let those two Wolves sneak up on me. I should have been more conscious of my surroundings. But I was paying attention to Ella and Amy’s spectacular display, and—
I bite my tongue until it hurts. Stay on task, Cal. You can lament your failures later. After you’re both safe.
“Okay, Liam, here’s the rub,” I say, unsure if he can understand me in his condition. “I’m pretty sure these Wolves didn’t kidnap us as leverage—I think they want information on the Jameson case. The Wolf who died must have been one of their buddies, or subordinates, or maybe even a family member. They want to know what we know, see if we have any suspects for the killings. Traditionally, Wolves are the vengeful type, so these guys probably don’t want to follow proper justice channels. They want to punish the killer on their own terms. Does that make sense to you?”
Liam opens his mouth, but then seems to remember he can’t quite speak. He nods instead.
“Good. So, I’m thinking if we play this right, we can get out of here unscath—um, without collecting any more injuries than we already have.” I run a finger over the back of my left hand, and find that the Wolves remembered to remove my beggar rings. One of my guns, of course, got lost when that one Wolf tackled me after the roof jump. And I don’t even have to check to know they removed my other gun, plus my knives, at some point during this drive. Liam would have received the same treatment. So no weapons.
All we have is diplomacy.
Fantastic.
I reach across the seat and squeeze Liam’s shoulder. “Let’s just play this one move at a time, okay? See what they want to know, answer as truthfully as we can without fatally compromising the Jameson case. I doubt these guys want the whole of DSI on their asses, so as long as we don’t rebuff them too hard, I think we’ll be all—”
Somebody in the clothed group barks out a laugh, and then people start to move toward the truck. One of the nude Wolves comes over to my side and yanks the door open. When the cold winter air rolls over me, my clouded mind clears slightly, and I feel a spike of adrenaline in my veins. I’m in no condition to fight, especially someone inhuman, but I think I have enough strength left to hold a decent conversation. If only so Liam won’t have to.
The nude Wolf looks me over, a snarl splitting his face, and jerks his chin up. “Out of the truck, boy.”
I grab the support grip on the ceiling, brace my other hand against the doorframe, and carefully lower myself out of the vehicle. When my boots crunch into the snow, and my weight shifts downward, another wave of dizziness nearly sends me sprawling. I screw my eyes shut and waver for a second, but I don’t fall. I won’t give these bastards the satisfaction.
I open my eyes again and glance at the nude Wolf. He’s stocky, taller than me, but I don’t lift my head up to make eye contact. “Well? What next?” My voice is weak and raspy, but at least the words come out whole and intelligible.
The man scowls at me and snorts, then juts a thumb over his shoulder, pointing to where two of the clothed men are still standing. The third one is now off to the side, a hand stuffed in his pocket. A concealed gun, to take us out in case we try to run off. Not that we could get very far anyway, in our conditions, especially with werewolves in pursuit.
The gun’s just an intimidation tactic.
Wolves love being the most threatening creatures in the room. And the woods.
Mimicking the nude Wolf’s scowl, I push by him and march up to the two clothed men. Behind me, I hear the other nude Wolf wrestling to get Liam out of the truck. Liam falls into the snow, hard enough to make him cry out in pain, but I don’t look back to check on him. If I appear too concerned about Liam’s well-being, they might hurt him more to try and force better answers out of me.
So I plant myself in front of the man who appears to be the leader of the group, the man everyone else keeps looking to for commands.
The man is in his mid-forties, or maybe a little older, since Wolves age a bit slower than humans do. He’s tall and broad, with a thick, dark beard, and hard brown eyes that scrutinize me from head to toe. He’s wearing a camo hat, along with a heavy tan coat and worn denim jeans. His boots are new, with rubber lining to ward off water. There don’t appear to be any weapons on his person, either because he feels he doesn’t need any, with his Wolf abilities, or because he expects his subordinates to protect him at all costs.
The man waits to speak until the two nude Wolves basically drag poor Liam to my side. One of the cuts on Liam’s head has split open again, and fresh blood pours down his face. He can’t stand either, so the Wolves simply drop him, and he sits listlessly in the snow, the cold quickly seeping into him. I glance back and forth from the injured Liam to the man who dared to order an attack on DSI in broad daylight.
It takes a special kind of bravado to risk exposure the way this man did. If any normal people had driven by that intersection during our fight with the Wolves, there’d be a damn YouTube video up right now entitled REAL WEREWOLVES IN MICHIGAN, with six million hits, and the entire supernatural super-community would be up in arms, demanding retribution against the Wolves. This man is either stupid and very lucky, or so hateful that he honestly doesn’t care about the consequences of his actions.
A strong breeze whistles through the trees, knocking snow off the branches. Afterward, the woods fall silent. Dead silent. There’s no one else around for miles. No one who can save us. No one who can hear us scream.
As the weight of this truth settles on me, my posture must weaken, because the man in the camo hat suddenly smiles and offers me his hand.
“McKinney,” he says in a gruff voice. “And who might you be?”
“Kinsey,” I reply and refuse the handshake. “Something I can help you with, Mr. McKinney?”
McKinney drops his hand, but the smile sticks. “Straight to the point, eh, kid?”
Liam faintly groans and starts to slump over to one side.
I tense up and say, “I don’t see any reason to beat around the bush. Considering all the effort you put into dragging us out here. I assume this is about the murdered Wolf at Jameson’s?”
“You assume right.” McKinney tucks his thumbs into his pockets. “See, kid, it turns out your Wolf victim was my good friend Vic Martinez. Been my lieutenant for nea
rly twenty years. Known him since I was, hell, your age.” His lips tighten into a sneer. “Loyal. Brave. One of the best men I’ve ever known. And now he’s in the city morgue.”
I turn this revelation around in my head for a second. If Martinez was McKinney’s second, then does that mean McKinney knows about the summoning plot? Was Martinez working as McKinney’s proxy in some grand plan with an unknown goal? What’s going on here? The hell are these people up to?
“Forgive me, sir,” I say, “but I don’t see why that information warranted kidnapping two DSI agents off the streets. If you wanted to tell us about Martinez, why not just come into the office? We’re working to find—”
McKinney backhands me. I stumble two steps to the left, head spinning, and barely manage to stay upright. The Wolf man rubs his knuckles and finally peels the mask of geniality away, revealing the ferocious beast beneath. His eyes flash like a night predator’s, and his lips tick open, baring a couple of unnaturally sharp teeth. His next words come out as a growl:
“I’m not working with you stupid Crows for shit. You understand? You little bastards can prance around all you want, waving magic rings and flapping your lips like you have some kind of authority—but I’m not buying into that lie. You’re just morons playing dress up, poking at things you have no business in. Vic’s death is Wolf business, and it’ll be resolved with Wolf justice.”
As I feared. These guys want to go vigilante on Martinez’s murderer.
And they don’t care who they have to rip apart to find him.
I touch my cheek, wincing at the tenderness of a soon-to-be bruise. “All right, McKinney.” I drop all the fake formality. “I get it. You hate DSI, and you think we’re in the way. Just tell me what you want. The crime scene photos? The evidence we’ve collected so far? A list of suspects? What?”
“No, kid. I don’t give two shits about your fake investigation.” McKinney stomps his right boot into the snow. “I want to know which of those ICM fucks made the decision to kill my best friend. I want their names. I want their addresses. I want that information now. And if you don’t give it to me, neither of you stupid freaks are getting out of here in one piece. Make sense?”
City of Crows Books 1-3 Box Set Page 35
