by E. S. Moore
Jonathan nodded for her to go on, however. He seemed oblivious to my silent protests.
“I know very little about you,” she said. “And I understand from what Jon has told me, you value your privacy.”
Jon? She called him Jon?
“What of it?” I asked. She’d barely said a word, hadn’t even said anything expressly bad, yet I wanted to punch her in the mouth.
“I am hopeful you may help in this as you have helped him before,” she said. She touched his elbow before withdrawing her hand. “I haven’t been here for long, but I know how much the Cult means to him . . . to all of us.”
I stared at her for a really long time, saying nothing. She didn’t know me. She had no right to ask for my help.
But deep down, I knew she was right. The Cult meant everything to Jonathan. I couldn’t turn my back on that.
Jonathan’s sigh drew my eye. “I just want you to stay safe,” he said. “I’m not sure what we can do against the Left Hand since we know so little about them. If we still had Davin, I could see what else he might know. But since he’s no longer here . . .” He trailed off.
I flinched a little inside. I knew where Davin was, but wasn’t about to tell anyone. There were things the insane vampire knew that I wasn’t ready to explain to anyone. He wouldn’t keep silent if I led the Cult to him.
“So I guess there’s little we can do but watch out for crazy people carrying syringes,” I said, frustrated.
Jonathan shrugged, looking miserable.
“And you called me all the way out here to tell me this?” Keira frowned, but I ignored her. I didn’t care what she thought of me.
I stood. I wasn’t going to waste my time there any longer than I had to. My time would be better spent searching the streets for signs of the Left Hand. It wouldn’t be easy—they looked like regular people and I doubted they’d all be carrying those big metal cases—but I wasn’t just going to sit around talking about it. I had to do something.
I started to walk away, but stopped when another thought hit me. There was still one more thing I could do at the Den that might help me.
“I want to see the body,” I said.
Jonathan looked at me with surprise. “There isn’t much to see.”
“That’s fine,” I said. “But I want to see it anyway.”
Jonathan didn’t look as if he approved. I was pretty sure he was blaming himself as being responsible for the wolf ’s death. To show me the body would be admitting he couldn’t protect those under him.
It was Keira who broke the tense silence that had fallen.
“I think we should let her.”
I looked at her in mild surprise. With the way I was treating her, I would have figured she’d have wanted me gone more than anyone. Yet here she was, taking my side.
Jonathan glanced at her and sighed. He rubbed at his face and then stood. “All right,” he said, still clearly reluctant. “The body is down in the basement.”
I very nearly grunted. Where else would it be?
I nodded once and stepped aside. “Okay, then,” I said. “Lead the way.”
3
The crowd of Cultists parted more readily for Jonathan than they had for Jeremy, which wasn’t much of a surprise. Jeremy hadn’t been to the Den too much over the last few months, so I was pretty sure quite a few of the newer residents had no idea who he was.
I still got glares here and there, though. That was something I’d never fully escape here. I mean, these people might worship werewolves as gods, but the same didn’t go for vampires. In fact, vamps were viewed as the enemy. It was a wonder I hadn’t been attacked by now.
Keira walked at my side, though not by my choice. I would have much preferred her to walk in front of me where I could keep an eye on her, but at least she wasn’t at my back. I was positive she distrusted me as much as I did her, no matter what she’d said. I hadn’t given her a reason to trust me, let alone like me, so I didn’t hold it against her.
What I did hold against her, however, was how quickly she’d attached herself to Jonathan. That was something I was going to find very hard to forgive.
Jeremy followed at the rear, but before we reached the office door, the girl he’d talked to before stopped him. She grabbed his arm and held tight when he tried to break away. With a sigh, he motioned us on and moved to a corner where he could talk with her.
I wasn’t quite sure what was going on there, but I did like the fact he was talking to someone that wasn’t me, Ethan, or Jonathan. Ever since he’d moved in with me, Jeremy had been cut off from so many things. It would do him some good to spend time with someone else, especially a girl.
I was very nearly smiling as we walked through the office doors. Jonathan let Keira and me through before closing the door. He walked across the room, briefly touching Keira’s arm as he passed, and then pressed the button beneath the lip of his desk. The secret door opened with a click.
“This way,” he said needlessly. I’d been down in the secret basement before. It had yet to be a pleasant experience and I doubted this time would be any different.
Jonathan led the way down the stairs. He walked with his back stiff and moved as if each step was a struggle. He wasn’t looking forward to this, that much was obvious.
I motioned for Keira to walk ahead of me. She hesitated a moment before giving me a slight smile and a dip of her head. She put her back to me without flinching, telling me that she wasn’t worried about me stabbing her in the back. I vaguely wondered how much Jonathan had told her about me.
I brought up the rear and followed the two werewolves down. Damp air wafted up the stairs, bringing with it the smell of blood and death. I had to pause a moment to take a few deep breaths before I could continue down into the depths of the Den. Thankfully, I wasn’t the only one. Keira had to stop twice, her head bowed, her breathing ragged.
Jonathan turned on the lights the moment he reached the bottom even though all three of us could see in the dark. It would be far easier to pick out details with the lights on. Night vision was nice and all, but there was just no substitute for good lighting.
Keira reached the bottom and moved to stand next to Jonathan. Without realizing I was doing it, I put my hand on the hilt of my sword and took the last few steps down.
The body was lying on a metal table in the middle of the room. A sheet lay across him, hiding his features. There were a few bloodstains, but they were small, telling me he’d stopped bleeding long before they covered him up, but not entirely.
Empty cells lined the walls of the basement. My eyes lingered on a certain three that had become synonymous with the Den in my mind.
Davin had spent time in the cell in the far corner before he’d escaped with the help of Adrian and his wolves. It was kind of odd to be down here without his mad laughter and taunts. If I squinted just right, I could almost see his gap-toothed grin peering at me from out of the shadows.
My gaze traveled down the line to the cell where Jonathan had kept the Left Hand woman whose throat I’d torn out. There were still bloodstains on the floor. It was unlikely they’d ever come out. I wondered if her death was what had precipitated the attack on the Den’s wolf or if it would have happened anyway.
I didn’t want to, but I couldn’t help but look at the cell in the middle. Thomas had been kept there. There was no blood inside, but I could still see the scrapes in the stone where he’d tried to claw his way out.
I looked away, feeling sick.
I found myself looking at a broken cross on the floor beside the table. It was wooden, held together by what looked to be railroad spikes. The crossbar was snapped off the main post and broken into two pieces. The entire thing was covered in blood.
“Nathan tore it down,” Jonathan said. “Once we took Philip down, Nathan threw it against the wall. It took three of us to calm him down or else he would have destroyed the entire thing.”
“Oh,” I said. I’d seen Nathan mad before. It was a wonder he hadn’t
killed someone in his rage.
I approached the table, stepping carefully around the remains of the cross. There were splinters of wood on the floor, some as long as my forearm. I doubted they’d puncture my boots, but I didn’t want to disturb them. Stepping on them seemed somehow indecent, as if I was disrespecting more than just the man who’d died upon this particular cross.
I reached for the top of the sheet covering Philip, but hesitated before pulling it down. I glanced toward Jonathan to make sure it was okay to uncover him. It felt right to get his permission first.
Jonathan nodded from where he stood a few feet away. Keira had moved to stand a little behind him. Her eyes glowed a faint yellow.
“Is she going to be okay?” I asked, keeping the sheet firmly in place. I didn’t like the idea of sharing a room with a werewolf who was about to lose control around a dead body. I might have the weapons, but if she was as quick as she looked, she might get to me before I could draw them.
Jonathan glanced back and frowned. “Keira?”
“I’m fine,” she said, but it was clear she was just barely holding on. Hair was starting to sprout around her cheeks. She kept flexing her fingers as if anxious to tear someone apart.
“Go upstairs,” Jonathan said. “Clear the main floor and find a place for everyone to sleep. Anyone who doesn’t plan on staying should wait until first light before leaving. It’s unlikely they will be attacked then.”
Her upper lip rose in a snarl, but she nodded anyway. With a stiff stride, Keira went up the stairs.
“She needs to work on that,” I said as soon as she was gone. “I’m not going to stick around long if you let her stay, especially if she goes wolfy every time she smells blood.”
Jonathan’s frown deepened, but he didn’t say anything. He just nodded toward the body, clearly wanting to get this over with as soon as possible.
I took a shallow breath, painfully aware of my own hunger. It wouldn’t do to point out Keira’s deficiencies in her control, only to have my own fangs sprout while I looked over the body.
I pulled the sheet off the corpse.
Philip was lying faceup on the table. His eyes were closed, which was a good thing because something pink had leaked from his eyelids and had dried on his cheeks. I had a pretty good feeling that it was what was left of his eyes.
A silver cross was embedded into his forehead. The skin around it was blackened and had peeled away, exposing the skull beneath. The silver was indeed fused to the bone.
I swallowed with some difficulty and looked down the rest of his body.
His throat had been cut ear to ear, which was typical of the Left Hand. His neck and chest were painted red with dried blood. His left hand was torn nearly in two and a gaping hole was in his right. There were two more holes in his wrists.
“We think they tried to crucify him by his hands first,” Jonathan said, following my gaze. “He tore free of that.”
I nodded. Religious nuts who didn’t know how to crucify someone properly? Great. The hands can’t support the weight of a body, especially if the body in question is thrashing around, trying to get free.
“Why didn’t he shift?” I asked, as I took in the rest of him. His feet had holes in them from where the spikes had held him in place, but the rest of his body appeared untouched. I covered up his nakedness with the sheet, leaving his face and throat exposed.
“They could have injected him with their serum,” Jonathan said. “We couldn’t find a puncture wound, but that could have been lost when his throat was cut.”
I studied Philip’s face, my disquiet growing. “If they’d burned the cross into his head first, he would have been paralyzed by the silver. He wouldn’t have been able to fight them.” I leaned in closer. “Unless . . .” I started to reach for the cross.
“It’s real silver,” Jonathan said, hastily. “Nathan touched it, thinking he might rip it free. It burned him.”
I pulled back. If I’d touched the cross with Jonathan knowing it was real silver, I’d have some big questions to answer. I often forgot I was now immune to silver, thanks to something Adrian had done to me when he’d forced me into the Oath. No one else knew about it. I wanted to keep it that way.
“It doesn’t make sense.”
I walked around the table as if seeing the body from another angle might tell me something. If he’d been paralyzed by the silver, he couldn’t have fought, meaning he wouldn’t have ripped his hands from the spikes. But if he hadn’t been paralyzed, it was likely he would have shifted to fight back.
Then again, Philip was a big man. He had to weigh at least two fifty, most of it muscle. Perhaps his own limp weight had torn his hands free.
I turned away from the corpse. Blood was starting to trickle into my mouth where my fangs were starting to push through. As much as I was disgusted by the body, at the brutality, I was still hungry. My inner beast needed to be sated every now and again, and I’d been putting it off. Ethan’s concoction had done nothing to ease the hunger.
I closed my eyes and focused on breathing slowly. I’d done this before. Hell, I’d been in rooms with dozens of dead bodies and had held it together. Why was I having such a hard time now?
“Are you okay?”
I jumped at the closeness of Jonathan’s voice. He was standing right behind me, close enough to touch. If I simply leaned back, our bodies would be pressed together. I felt myself start to move, but caught myself just in time.
“I’m fine,” I said, suddenly aware of my breath. I’d almost forgotten about the stuff Ethan had me drink.
Still, Jonathan didn’t step away. I didn’t move either.
“I don’t mean about this,” he said, gesturing toward the body.
I glanced over my shoulder at him. His face was whole, completely void of the damage I’d done to him all those years ago, back before we got to know each other. I longed to reach up and touch the spot where I knew his skull had been cleaved by my sword, but to do so would be to give in to something I’d been fighting hard to ignore.
“I said I was fine,” I said, taking a step away from him.
“We haven’t talked since Baset—”
I cut him off with a quick slashing motion of my hand. I didn’t want to think about Countess Baset, especially not now.
His lips tightened and he waited all of two seconds before starting in again. “What happened to you that night?” he asked. “You came in looking pale and scared. We didn’t know where you’d been and I . . . I was afraid something had happened to you. I still am.”
He didn’t know about Adrian or what the big wolf had done to me. I wasn’t even sure he suspected.
I had no intention of telling him.
I clenched my jaw and just glared at him. It was none of his business where I’d been. I knew if he found out I was bound to Adrian, he might try to kill the rogue werewolf himself to free me.
While I wouldn’t mind Adrian’s death so much, I knew it was unlikely Jonathan could pull it off. He had maybe six or seven wolves at his disposal. Adrian had dozens. A fight between them wouldn’t even be close. I wasn’t so sure I could handle it if Jonathan died because of me.
“Kat . . .” He started to move a little closer, but caught himself. Instead, he put his hands behind his back, respecting my need for space. “I want to help you. If something has happened, please let me know.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” I felt my lower lip begin to tremble and I bit the inside of my mouth to keep from crying. I couldn’t believe I was about to break down over this.
Jonathan’s face fell and he nodded. I don’t think he heard the pain in my voice, but he understood. There were just some things I couldn’t talk about, not yet anyway. Maybe somewhere down the line I’d be able to tell him without worrying so much about how it would affect him.
But it wouldn’t come easy. He’d already been tortured once because of me. I didn’t plan on ever letting it happen again.
“I want to talk about Natha
n,” I said, changing the subject so I wouldn’t be tempted to tell him everything just so he wouldn’t worry.
“What about him?”
“He’s not here. How sure are you that he isn’t somehow involved in this?”
Jonathan’s eyes flashed an angry yellow. “He is not.” Terse.
“And are you positive of this?”
“Yes.”
“Then someone else,” I pressed. “There’s no way the Left Hand could have gotten on your property and disabled the cameras without help. You would have seen them coming.”
“I’ve thought of that.”
“But you don’t want to believe that it could have been anyone close to you who did it, is that it?”
“It couldn’t have been Nathan,” Jonathan said through clenched teeth. “Or any of my weres for that matter. Have you forgotten the Left Hand kills those of our kind? They would not work with them knowingly, even if it furthered their goals.”
“Exactly,” I said, causing him to give me an odd look. “Just because we know who is and isn’t a werewolf, doesn’t mean the Left Hand always knows. They could be receiving anonymous information, for all we know. They might not have met the person they’re working with.”
Jonathan shook his head in stubborn denial.
“Or perhaps one of the Pureblood Cultists is involved. Just because they bear your mark and wear your robes, doesn’t mean they’re loyal to you. Are there any new Cultists, someone who’s been snooping around a little more than usual, that might be responsible?”
Jonathan turned angrily away. He didn’t like this line of thought any more than I did. He’d been betrayed by one of his own before. I didn’t want to know what he’d do to the person who betrayed him now.
A twinge of guilt sifted through me as I thought about what I wasn’t telling him. He really did deserve to know about Adrian and his wolves being immune to silver. It was also his right to know that I was bound to Adrian. And then there was all of the other shit I’ve been hiding from him over the last few months, things that he would desperately want to know . . .
