Howl at the Moon

by Christine Warren

  "That's… We can't—" She broke off and cleared her throat. "We can't just leave her to it, then. We have to find her. Is the pack out looking for her?"

  Rafe nodded. "Graham has every available tracker on it, Sam. We're going to find her."

  "Yeah, but will it be in time?" She turned to Noah. "We have to find that warehouse. If that's where they do their dirty work, it's probably where they'll take Annie."

  "Sweetheart, we don't even know for sure if they have her."

  "If they do, this is our best chance to keep them from harming her, and if they don't, then maybe we can stop them before they find her." She squared her jaw, biting painfully against the anxiety that threatened to spill over. "Please."

  Noah exchanged glances with Rafe, then nodded. "All right," he agreed. "We'll find the warehouse. Don't worry, baby; Annie will be safe. We'll make sure of it."

  She shivered and leaned against his solid warmth. "Goddess, I hope so."

  So did Noah. He hoped like hell he could keep his promise. He'd taken a vow never to lie to Sam again, so he didn't want to turn his promise into one.

  They had detoured by the club only long enough to consult with Graham and Missy and for Noah to change his clothes. He dressed again in his mission clothes, checked his utility vest, and hoped like hell he wouldn't need anything that was inside of it.

  Sam's first words once they got through the front door had been to ask the others if they had heard anything new about Annie. They hadn't, of course, and Noah had seen the worry on Sam's face. He remembered their phone conversation from earlier in the week, remembered how she'd told him she and Annie had been friends their whole lives, and he knew it would be devastating to Sam to lose her. He would make it a point to prevent that from happening.

  He had left Sam in the front hall, talking quietly and intently with Missy and Graham, and when he jogged back down the stairs that's where he found them.

  "Graham is sending a couple of men with us," Sam told Noah, her hand reaching out toward him even before he joined the small group. She must have read the hesitation in his eyes, because she took his hand and squeezed. "Just Tobias and Rule. You know they both know how to handle themselves, and it's on the understanding that you'll be giving the orders."

  The two men peeled away from the wall where they'd been standing and approached.

  "It's your party," Tobias told Noah, "but you're already outnumbered. It doesn't make any sense to go in there with just the two of you. Think of us as the brute squad."

  Rule nodded. "Seven against two are not bad odds, but seven against four are even better."

  Noah knew when he had to give in; when someone else had a point was usually a good time.

  "Fine." He nodded. "How fast can you be ready?"

  Tobias grinned. "My wife is in the other room. As soon as I give her a kiss."

  He looked at Rule, who shrugged. "I would say the same thing, but I have been reminded recently that my wife is also your sister and you probably do not want to hear me say things like that."

  Noah chuckled. "Go ahead. Both of you. I'll avert my eyes."

  The two men disappeared into the other room, and Noah sent Sam an inquiring look. "How did they convince Fiona and Abby not to come?"

  "Fiona and Abby know that too many bodies could get in the way, and this isn't really their problem."

  What Sam left unspoken was that she considered it hers.

  "Don't worry," Noah said, his voice gruff as he rubbed a thumb along the plane of her cheekbone. "I'm not going to tell you to stay here. She's your friend, and it's your pack. I get that."

  She blinked up at him for a long moment; then her mouth curved. "Good. I'll give you one thing, Noah Baker. You sure are a fast learner."

  The sound of traffic spilled over the piers, amplified by the water of the Hudson. Sam could hear the bustle, the voices and activity, at the Chelsea Piers Sports & Entertainment Complex just north of them, but where they were the area seemed almost eerily quiet.

  She could sense the three men ranged around her, each one of them throwing off insane amounts of heat in the chilly evening air.

  The sun had nearly set, the shadows lengthening, which was good for them. In their black clothing, they would blend in better with the shadows, and at least three of them had vision to let them see in pitch-blackness.

  Somehow, she didn't think Noah's human eyes would slow him down any.

  He crouched a few steps in front of them with Sam at his back and Tobias and Rule slightly farther back at the rear. They were hunkered down just inside an abandoned storage shed with a good view of the warehouse farther out on the pier. It looked like an airplane hangar, and Sam thought she'd heard of it being used as a bus depot at one point, but these days it was supposed to be abandoned. She supposed it would be if the infamous B-team hadn't set up shop inside.

  She felt impatience rising inside her and struggled to beat it down. She had agreed to play by Noah's rules as a condition of her coming along, and if Rule and Tobias smelled this calm, she supposed they had to approve of his approach, but damn it, she wished he'd hurry up and signal them to move. Even the silence, as wise as she knew it to be, was driving her crazy. She could hear the conversations of couples in cars driving by, but she heard not a peep out of her companions. They had agreed to it beforehand and brushed up on the military sign language Noah planned to use. Each of the men carried a cell phone, and each hoped he wouldn't have to use it.

  The sun seemed to take forever to set, but finally the sky began to dim rapidly and twilight turned into early evening. When the light around them descended to an inky charcoal, she saw Noah shift and smelled the sudden tension in his body. Thank the moon, he was nearly ready.

  She had shifted her weight, ready to spring into action, when the sound of an approaching car caught her attention. Lots of traffic had flowed past the end of the pier, but this was the first time a vehicle had peeled away from the rest and approached the chain-link fence that surrounded the property to discourage vagrants, scavengers, and curiosity seekers. Turning, she focused her attention on the sound and saw it had Tobias's interest engaged as well. Noah glanced back and saw their distraction. Sam signaled him to wait.

  She saw when he heard it, too. By that point the car had paused, someone had gotten out to open the gate, and the car had pulled through onto the property. As it approached, Noah eased closer to the shed's entrance and watched as the car came into view.

  It was a dark SUV, indistinguishable from thousands of others owned by New Yorkers crazy enough not to care about parking and gas mileage and car thieves. It had tinted windows and New York plates that had been smeared with mud and debris to make the numbers illegible. As they watched, the two front doors opened and two men got out. The driver moved back and opened the rear door, reaching for something inside. When he stepped back, Sam could see Annie's limp figure hanging trussed and unconscious over his shoulder.

  Sam nearly went for his throat then and there.

  Noah stopped her. The hard pressure of his hand on her shoulder reminded her of his presence and brought her back to reality. In the dark, his eyes met hers and he silently urged her to remember her promise.

  Gritting her teeth, she sank back into her crouch and forced herself to wait silently. It was one of the hardest things she'd ever done. She wanted to move, to tear the man carrying Annie limb from bloody limb; she wanted to scream at him. She wanted to ask Noah a million questions and demand that he do something right now. But all she could do was sit and wait while the man carried Annie toward the warehouse with the passenger trailing behind, his fist closed tight around a big, black pistol.

  When they disappeared inside the building, Noah finally rose from his crouch and waved them forward. They moved as a unit, quiet and efficient, keeping down and keeping to the shadows as they crossed the open lot and circled around to the back of the massive structure. Sam felt her heart beating in her throat, sped on by the rush of adrenaline coursing through her. She co
ncentrated so hard on keeping herself contained, holding herself back from tearing straight through the building's metal walls, that she almost choked on the smoke before it registered.

  Frantically she hooked her fingers in the back of Noah's vest and hauled him to a stop, signaling both the men behind her to freeze as well. When Noah turned back to look at her, she tugged his head down and pressed her mouth right up against his ear.

  "There's someone standing out back by the rear entrance." She spoke in a low, toneless voice, less audible than a whisper. "Smoking. I can smell it."

  Noah looked down at her, searching her face for confirmation. She nodded. His expression twisted as if the struggle to stifle his curse was almost too much for him. He managed it, though, and lifted his hand so the men could see it as well. Plan B.

  With sharp nods, Tobias and Rule drifted away, stalking back toward the front of the building and the door the late arrivals had used earlier. Sam took a deep breath, shucked out of her jeans to keep the cloth from ripping, and shifted. She saw Noah blink at the transformation, his eyes watching the whole thing, and that was apparently all it took for him to accept that the woman beside him had just turned into a four-legged carnivore.

  Goddess, she loved him.

  She stropped herself against his leg once, then ghosted past him toward the building's rear entrance. When she got close enough, she would hunker down and watch until the guard was distracted or looking the other way, and she would take him down as quickly and quietly as possible to let Noah slip past them and into the building.

  That was the way it was supposed to work.

  It might have, too, if she hadn't startled a small black shape also crouched in the shadow of the building. The feral cat, probably hunting mice in their hidey-holes beneath the building, took one look at the approaching wolf and let out a yowl that probably echoed in Yonkers. Mentally cursing, Sam gave up on keeping quiet and dug her claws into the cracked pavement, pouring on a burst of speed.

  She rounded the corner at the same time as Camel man, knocking both him and herself off-balance. She went spinning through the pool of light cast by the guard's dropped flashlight, and he careened off the tin wall with a booming clatter, in the distance, she heard Noah's hissed curse and saw him running flat out toward them. At the same time, footsteps sounded inside and the rear door opened, two more soldiers spilling out, their weapons already in hand.

  Sam howled a protest and launched herself at the one with his gun pointing at the corner Noah would round any minute. Her paws slammed into the soldier's chest and her teeth sank deep into the muscle of his shoulder. With a mighty shake, she dislocated the joint and followed the screaming man to the ground.

  The clamor distracted the third guard, who looked toward Sam just long enough for Noah to clear the side of the building and bring the butt of his own pistol down on the back of the man's skull. He sank into a heap, but the original guard had regained his balance and was taking aim at Noah's head.

  With a snarl, Sam charged the guard, knowing already that she wouldn't be fast enough. She felt her heart lodge in her throat as she saw his hand tighten around the trigger, and knew that it stopped the instant the report sounded in the cool night air.

  Noah, though, kept standing.

  The bloom of ugly red that she had expected to see on him materialized in the middle of the guard's chest instead, and he toppled to the ground just as she made impact. She followed him down and rolled away, scrambling to her feet just as the back door swung open again. Noah turned, his gun still raised from the shot he'd just fired, and watched as the figure in the doorway beckoned them in.

  "I can't say I was expecting you, Major, but perhaps I should have been. Please, come inside. After you drop your weapons, of course."

  She saw Noah's jaw tighten and smelled the wave of hatred that flooded through him.

  "General Hammond," he said, and slowly crouched to lay his pistol on the ground.

  * * *

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Noah laid his weapon down and rose slowly, his hands spread out by his shoulders. His mind raced through a dozen scenarios in which he relieved the general of the gun he held and shoved it up his ass, but every single one of them involved an unacceptable risk to Sam.

  "Very good," the general said. He wasn't a particularly tall man, maybe five-nine or five-ten, but his posture and bearing made him appear taller. He carried himself with authority, and with his barrel chest and crisply tailored uniform, his dark gray hair and his ruddy complexion, he carried it well.

  "Now, come inside." He gestured with his head, not the barrel of the gun. The cautious son of a bitch. "And be sure to bring your companion."

  Noah didn't even glance down at Sam. He could feel her pressing against his leg, her fur tickling his fingertips. He nudged her in ahead of him. If they had to be on the wrong end of this bastard's sights, Noah could at least make sure the bullet had to go through him to reach Samantha.

  He heard her toenails click against the building's concrete floors, the sound echoing in the cavernous space. A few bare fluorescent bulbs dropped down from the ceiling, barely cutting through the thick darkness. The warehouse had no windows, just three-story walls and a metal-girdered roof lost somewhere in the black space above them. Inside, near the center of the open space, he saw a handful of tables set up. A couple looked as if they held complex computer and communications equipment. A microscope sat on another, and a third was covered with weapons, ammunition, and other debris of military life.

  A bench along the wall held a lumpy pile of fabric that Noah realized was Annie. Her hair hung over her face, concealing her features, but he didn't see any blood or any obvious wounds. With luck they had only drugged her or knocked her unconscious.

  He saw three soldiers seated at the fourth table, though when the general approached they rose. Beside him, Noah felt Sam stiffen, her hackles rising along her back.

  "At ease, men." The general sounded almost jovial, as if something had put him in a very good mood. "Major, I'd like you to meet the pride of the new Paranormal Regiment Special Ops team. These three men represent the future of our operation. Every one of them had proved his ability to successfully tolerate the introduction of vampire DNA into his system and to make full use of the resulting extraordinary abilities. I would offer to have them give you a demonstration of those abilities, but I'm afraid that their last doses have already worn off and the serum is back at their headquarters. But trust me when I tell you that these men are going to revolutionize warfare."

  Noah heard the gloating, arrogant tone and wanted to scream. Hammond made it sound as if he'd created these men, like some kind of sculptor molding them from clay. He had no idea what he was doing, what this nightmare meant for the Others. Worse than that, he didn't care.

  "Tonight is our lucky night, gentlemen. All of our problems are gathered here in this room just waiting for us to deal with them once and for all. What could be better?"

  A soldier with a clean-shaven head and a neck as thick around as a tree trunk looked at them and frowned. "Sir, where are Manning, Burcher, and Katz?"

  The general sighed. "Burcher, and Katz are outside, if you want to go collect them, but I'm afraid Manning is no longer with us. Major Baker here shot him."

  All three men turned to look at Noah with hatred in their eyes. He didn't doubt they all had plans for exactly how they'd like to kill him. Too bad Hammond seemed intent on spoiling their fun.

  "We heard the bullet," the bald soldier said. "It's gonna bring the police down here eventually. Even in this neighborhood, people love to report gunshots."

  Hammond shrugged. "Then we'll just have to work fast." He reached out and grabbed Sam by the scruff of the neck, shaking her so hard that her front feet lifted from the floor. "Where are the rest of Dr. Cryer's notes, Ms. Carstairs?"

  Noah shouted a protest and took an instinctive step forward, only to earn himself a rifle butt in the stomach.

  The soldier who gave it t
o him, a narrow-eyed redhead with an incongruous faceful of freckles, looked as if he couldn't wait to do it again.

  "I'm going to have to ask you to control yourself, Major. I would hate to have to kill you prematurely. I have a few questions to ask you before I shoot you. You've spent a great deal of time with the werewolves. I want to know exactly what parts of them we need to copy to take our work to the next level." Hammond shook Sam again, then dropped her so abruptly, her legs splayed out beneath her, sending her crashing to the floor.

  She never made a sound, but Noah could see the light of murder in her eyes.

  "I suggest you find yourself a human tongue and tell me, Ms. Carstairs. We've already learned from Dr. Cryer that she gave certain documents pertaining to her research to you for safekeeping. The only reason either of you is still alive is because I need those documents. If that work were to be published, it would end up in the hands of all the wrong people. My program is the very cutting-edge application of interspecies gene transplantation, and I'm not going to be upstaged because some little girl in a lab coat thought she could cure her people of fleas. So tell me where they are before I have to resort to less civilized methods."

  Sam bared her teeth in a snarl. If she'd had fingers, Noah felt pretty sure she'd have given the general one of them. The middle one.

  Hammond sighed and looked at his soldiers. "Go wake our other guest, Farley. It seems Ms. Carstairs has decided to be stubborn. Not a very good decision, I'm afraid."

  Baldy crossed over to the bench near the wall and roughly hauled Annie to her feet. When her legs didn't respond quickly enough to hold her up, he shook her roughly back to consciousness. Then he half-dragged, half-shoved her back toward the others.

  She'd been drugged, Noah decided, taking in her dazed expression and the blank, foggy look in her eyes. She was having to fight to stay conscious, and shivers wracked her in spite of the comfortable temperature inside the building.