I jogged beside Stan and caught my breath as he continued to lumber. He shot me an annoyed glance. Whatever. Like I’d leave him behind. As the only norm in the rescue team, he didn’t benefit from enhanced physical traits, like speed, stamina, or strength. Plus, he hit the donut shop and fed the cop stereotype along with his belly.
We dodged jumbled knots of cables and machinery. In the past, their sounds probably echoed in the large space—incessant whirring, smothered by the surrounding cement pillars and now-crumbling towers.
Beneath the rust and grime, a once thriving and working substation rested here. Now, aside from nature, it lurked in a deep, eerie silence.
The vibes of this place rattled my bones and sent an itch screeching up my spine. How many supes were housed here? To be forgotten or illegally tested on without the public’s knowledge? A shudder racked my body. Everyone presumed the lab existed, but like the boogeyman, people rarely sought information or went looking in dark corners for nightmares.
A particularly pungent smell of moss, mould, and dirt filled the air as we climbed the stairs. George the Guard sat slumped against the wall at the top, his neck at an awkward angle, blood dripping down his face. His key ring no longer hung from his belt.
We passed more than a few guards, some dead, some in a magically-induced slumber, their soft snores drowning out the trickling water and the scurry of rats.
“It won’t last forever,” Lucus warned. Sweat dripped down his face. “We need to move before they wake.”
“How is it even possible? Surely there’s a protective charm over the compound?” To lay a sleeping spell over an entire compound, one with magically contained cells like Veronika’s and mine demonstrated an amazing amount of power and control.
“Only on some parts like your cells,” Wick answered. “They probably wanted to avoid detection. We killed any guards we came across in the protected areas.”
Huh. That meant some guards might still lurk about. I grabbed Stan’s arm and hauled him with me as I picked up the pace. His weight pulled me off balance. Wick dropped back and bent to pick up Stan.
“Fuck off!” Stan spat. “I’ve got this.” He shrugged off both of us and put his chin down. Sweat glistened on his pasty skin and soaked through his shirt as we reached the next set of stairs.
Wick exchanged a glance with me. We shrugged in unison.
The soft din of a city trickled down the stairwell as we rounded the corner. The faint glow of artificial light surrounded the exit door like a halo.
“Where did you say this substation was?” I whispered to Wick as we climbed over a supersized pipe, slick with dew and clotted grease.
“I didn’t.”
We stepped out onto a tiered plaza of sorts, illuminated by nearby street lights. I gasped. A large ornate church sat opposite a park from where we staggered out of the substation. I’d seen this church before. We were in downtown Vancouver somewhere.
Thick concrete pillars, which acted as vents, surrounded us on all sides, while steel beams made a prison-like cage above. Cluttered with garbage and cast in dark shadows, this place resonated with a menacing vibe, especially at night.
“What took you guys so long?” Sid huffed at us, with Veronika still in his arms. He hadn’t broken a sweat. And he hadn’t put Veronika down, yet, either. He turned away from us and walked toward the park’s exit carrying the petite Witch with him. Stan and Lucus followed across the overgrown lawn. They jogged around a shallow reflection pool. Not the nice kind. The kind that smelled of tepid urine and looked worse than an abandoned Chernobyl fish pond. Leaves lay on the bottom along with dirt, cigarettes, and who knew what else. A putrid odour lifted off the surface of the stagnant water and slapped my face.
“Ugh.” I pulled my shirt up to cover my nose.
Wick turned and smiled at me. “I know.”
His gaze moved to over my shoulder, at the same time a boot scraped against the concrete slabs.
I turned in time to deflect a blow to the head.
A guard I didn’t recognize renewed his attack, his dark gaze narrowing. His uniform swished with each movement. I staggered back as my arms and legs ached from blocking his brawler-style strikes. My muscles screamed in agony from neglect and struggled to react.
Wick shoved me out of the way, grabbed the man’s hand mid strike, and growled. The guard’s eyes widened. One punch and the man was down and out. From the sickening crunch of his skull, he’d likely remain down.
Wick turned to me.
“Thanks.” I scratched my head. Normally, I would’ve bristled and claimed I had that, but it would be a lie, and Wick would know.
His nose flared and he hesitated. After a silent pause, he nodded, grabbed my upper arm, and steered me toward the park’s exit. “The spell must’ve worn off, or we missed some protected areas. The spell is hard for Lucus to maintain. He took Sid’s blood to cast it.”
We moved quickly across the jungle-length grass through the park. Cool air licked my skin, and a gentle wind rustled the nearby trees lining the street. The city lights provided hazy lighting, and the unseen pollution in the air blocked out the stars.
Before exiting, I glanced back at the entrance to the SRD’s lab. This park had been left to deteriorate, hidden away in the bustle of Vancouver. The concrete columns and the overhanging metal marked the entrance to the lab. Daunting architecture, along with the discarded feel of the park, screamed “Avoid at all costs.” How many people assumed this place was just an ugly remnant from Expo ’86? How many cursed its clashing style with the opulence of the nearby church, or called it an “eye-sore” before moving on with their lives? How many people plodded along the cement sidewalk slabs on their daily commute, like lemmings, with no idea of what lurked beneath their feet?
Brilliant idea for the SRD to hide this illegal facility in plain sight, close to headquarters.
We exited the park and stepped onto the street. Escaping the SRD lab with magically-induced sleeping guards and hacked cameras ranked the same on the difficulty scale as sneaking out at night to play hanky-panky with the boyfriend at the beach while my parents watched the news.
If only Tucker had been close by.
Well, it wouldn’t have been very satisfying to have Tucker served on a platter. That man had to pay, and it wouldn’t—couldn’t—be quick.
Anger boiled in my blood, and the pressure pushed against the barrier housing the beast.
Stan helped support a barely-standing Lucus. The Witch looked like he’d drop without the use of Stan as a crutch.
A van pulled up and the side door slid open.
Clint?
With massive shoulders and a smug smile, Clint’s presence was unmistakable, even in the night-shrouded abandoned streets of downtown Vancouver. With slicked hair the same deep sable as mine, Clint’s big-as-a-tractor shoulders made most girls want to take up farming. Except me. My field didn’t want to be plowed. At least, not by him. Instead, I wanted to rip him apart and sell the scraps.
As the former human servant of the douchebag Vampire who’d caused me to sever ties with Wick, Clint’s presence, though unmistakable, was unexpected.
As was the driver’s. Allan, the new Master Vampire of the Lower Mainland.
Allan turned his formidable muscled bulk to wink at me. “Hop in, Carus. We need to talk.”
Not one to argue in the middle of an escape, I jumped into the van, and the rest of the rescue team followed. Wick turned to help Stan get Lucus in. Sid leaned over and slid the door shut, almost catching Stan’s foot. The police detective scowled at the Demon.
The van peeled down the vacant road, slamming the lot of us against the interior siding. My body crashed into Wick’s.
“Sorry.” Allan’s tone said he wasn’t sorry at all.
“Sorry, not sorry,” I grumbled, righting myself and pulling away from the heat and scent of Wick’s body.
“I’ve always wanted to do that,” Allan admitted.
As the largest Japanese man
I’d ever met—not sumo big, muscle big—I was surprised he fit behind the wheel.
Allan chuckled and shook his head at me in the rear-view mirror. My powers might be synthetically muted, but Allan could still read minds. Vampires developed special powers over time. The older ones, like Allan, held particularly nasty skills.
Obviously, Sid recruited my “known associates” to aid him with the prison break. My eyes stung as I surveyed who’d stepped up to answer the Demon’s call. Their presence made sense. Well, most did, anyway.
“Not that I’m not appreciative of the help, but why are you here?” I asked Clint and Allan.
The rest of the van remained silent.
Clint smirked and shrugged his massive shoulders. “The Pharaoh is making a move.”
Allan’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel.
“And you wanted the big bad Carus on your side?” I asked.
Clint shifted and his gaze cut away.
Allan chuckled. “You’re on our side, regardless. Don’t try to deny you’ll go after the Pharaoh. Your anger is potent and barely contained. Even if I couldn’t read your mind, I’d read your face.”
I closed my eyes and sank against the cold metal of the van’s interior.
Wick’s warm hand covered my arms. “Can you guys hold off on your diabolical plans for later? Andy needs to heal.”
Heal. Not rest. Wick knew. How did he know? My eyes popped open, and I turned to Wick.
His hard gaze met mine and his brows furrowed. “Something’s off with you.”
I nodded. When I tried to explain, a sob lodged in my throat. No way would I break down in front of these guys. I blinked back tears rapidly pooling in my eyes.
“They pumped her full of drugs,” Veronika whispered.
Everyone’s attention swiveled toward the Witch, except mine. I stared at my useless, pathetic norm hands, with dull fingernails. Tucker’s smug smile flashed across my vision.
Allan sucked in a breath, gleaning the truth from my brain before everyone else.
“She said she couldn’t feel her feras,” Veronika continued.
I winced and everyone’s gazes turned back to me. Silence filled the van as cold seeped through my veins, leaving me weak and shaky.
Wick squeezed my arm. “I’m sure you’ll find a way to fix it.”
His confidence surprised me. The hollow ache of uncertainty ballooning in my chest didn’t.
Chapter Seven
Knowledge bombs
“The most difficult aspect of moving on is accepting that the other person already did.”
~Faraaz Kazi
With my apartment as the site of Tristan’s death, and still technically a crime scene, albeit an old one, I’d rather kiss Tucker’s feet than step foot in the place of my nightmares. I needed someplace else to go. Technically, I still had a safe house on Vancouver Island, but without wings, I’d have to wait for the first ferry to leave Vancouver—six hours from now. I needed a place to hole up.
Stan had a small apartment, but he had to go to work and didn’t want me left on my own. When I suggested a hotel, everyone in the van grumbled. Obviously, Stan wasn’t the only one worried about my solo activities.
How many had I killed or harmed? A growing pit sank low in my stomach. My beast rampage, now only flickers of memory, must’ve been pretty epic, and my assurances of the beast’s containment fell on deaf ears.
So where could I stay?
Veronika and Lucus wanted privacy to catch up. Besides, Veronika needed to heal as much, if not more, than I did from whatever hell she’d endured in the lab.
Clint and Allan’s places respectively were out, because, well, Clint and Allan. Enough said.
“You’ll stay at my place.” Wick’s tone bordered on an order and made my skin bristle.
Not able to raise a proper objection aside from “awkward,” I nodded and kept my gaze down.
When the van pulled into Wick’s West End driveway, the silence blanketing the vehicle grew heavier.
“Thanks everyone,” I mumbled at the floor.
Clint snorted.
Allan nodded.
Lucus, now mostly recovered, mumbled, “Mmmhmm.”
Sid acknowledged me with a brief nod before resuming his not-so-subtle observation of Veronika.
Stan grunted before pulling me into a big bear hug. He kissed my temple. “Take care of yourself, Andy. The wolf has a new phone for you. Use it.”
I nodded and turned to Veronika. Her dark gaze met mine and an agreement passed silently between us. We’d get revenge. Just not now.
“Come on.” Wick slid the side door open and hopped out. He turned to offer me a hand.
“We’ll speak soon,” Allan whispered. Even without feras, my Shifter hearing picked up his words and the assurance woven into them.
My pulse increased with the promise of vengeance, retribution, and making those who’d hurt me and Tristan pay with more than the blood coursing through their veins.
I placed my hand in Wick’s large, calloused one and scrambled awkwardly out of the van. My joints and muscles creaked and moaned at the movement. The run had completely sapped any strength I had. As adrenaline left my system, my whole body cooled and stiffened.
The door slid closed behind me, and the van peeled off into the night.
“I think he agreed to help us just so he could do that.” Wick watched the van’s path down the dark street. “That and he filled up on a month’s supply of blood from the guards he took out by the entrance.”
“Yeah,” I said.
Wick turned to me, and his gaze bore into mine. As if only realizing now he still held my hand, he dropped it, like my touch burned his skin. He raked his fingers through his blond hair. Though he’d grown it out a bit, the longer hair did little to detract from his good looks.
“I’m glad you’re okay,” he said, voice gruff. “I’m sorry about Tristan.”
“Yeah.” I looked away from Wick’s intense gaze. In the center of Kitsilano, a couple blocks away from the beach, Wick’s house epitomized taste and class, yet somehow stayed true to the Alpha’s wild nature. Worth well over a million dollars, the Parisian blue heritage-style building had multiple levels and a covered front patio. As a building developer, Wick had updated and modernized everything, top to bottom, inside and out, while maintaining the nostalgic feel of the older home. When I first met Wick, he’d held me captive here on the demands of Lucien, the Vampire Master. During my stay, I’d dominated the leading pack-bitch, sprayed dog repellant on the pack’s second-in-command to escape, and I’d fallen helplessly in love with the Alpha.
“There’s been a few changes since you’ve been here,” Wick grumbled.
The only time I’d visited Wick’s home post break-up had been to ask for help on a case. Searching for the killer of Stan’s wife, and wanting to ease my friend’s pain, led me to take desperate measures, including visiting an ex I still loved. Along with answers, I discovered Wick had replaced my absence with my least favorite female Werewolf—Christine. Given the sour tang to the air, and Wick’s shifting feet, his uncertainty meant one thing.
“Christine lives here now.”
And there it was. The knowledge bomb. Yet, it didn’t cut like it might have a month or two ago. Even with Tristan by my side, it had hurt to see Wick move on and to see who he chose to move on with. Now, just emptiness met his words, and a little unease.
“Is she okay with me here?” We weren’t exactly besties, and Mel, my Werewolf friend in Wick’s pack, had once warned me to watch my back where the she-bitch was concerned.
“She’s not happy with the arrangement, but I’m still the Alpha of this pack.” His voice steeled with his response. “We are capable of protecting you until you get on your feet. And the SRD will not look for you at your…ex’s house.”
My soul ached a little at the truth in his words. Why would the SRD look for me at Wick’s? Most would assume he’d hate my guts. Part of him probably did.
&n
bsp; “Andy.” Wick ran his hand through his hair again. “You should also know…”
“We’re going to mate to break your control over his wolf.” A female voice fractured the night. Tall, willowy, and attractive in that model-skinny, sucked-on-a-lemon way, Christine stood in flashy clothes, probably designer, with a hand resting on her bony hip.
Her scent took longer to reach me than her words, and by then, my mind reeled so hard, the nauseating impact her scent signature normally had on me, held little effect.
Wick and Christine mated? Or soon to be?
I’d never like any woman Wick chose, but Christine wasn’t a good match for him. Had she been, Wick would’ve mated with her long before I flew into the picture. Why now? Was the pain of his wolf pining for mine so bad he was willing to tie his life indefinitely to Christine?
“Um, congratulations?” My gaze flicked to Wick.
He watched the street instead of us. “We should get you inside.”
“Yes,” hissed Christine. “Welcome to our home.”
I smiled faintly at her. Too bad I couldn’t shift my fingers into claws to swipe off her smug expression.
My mind ached, hollow, devoid of feras.
I climbed the stairs, each footstep weighing more than the last, and walked through the door of Wick’s home. A niggling feeling crawled up my spine, like little goldfish pecking at the food on the surface of water.
Had I replaced one hell for another?
****
As Christine’s innate scent swirled around me, I closed my eyes and braced myself for what was to come. Wick shucked off his shoes and brushed past me. “Make yourself at home. You’ll be in the guest room at the end of the hall. It’s Were-proofed. We’ll lock you in at night for your safety.”
“And ours.” Christine’s jeering tone in my ear acted like a screeching alley cat issuing a challenge. She stood beside me. “After the destruction you caused, it’s more than a precaution.”
Truth. Her words rang true. I squeezed my eyes tighter and clenched my fists. How many lives had I destroyed? My mind tried desperately to access and replay memories from my beast’s warpath. “How many?”
Beast of All Page 4
