Trish resumed cooking, carefully hiding the grin trying to break through. “You really like him?” Trish knew that Flora was a force to be reckoned with by supernatural standards, but in other respects she was just as vulnerable as any other almost-adult. Trish definitely wasn’t ready to see the girl’s heart get broken, even if it was all part of growing up.
“We have a lot in common. He’s…sweet, and…” Flora was saved from further interrogation by the exuberant reappearance of Derek and Breanna.
The men cleared the breakfast table while Trish saw Breanna settled in the day room at the rear of the house with Casey. The young female Werewolf had been helping take care of Breanna since she was just a couple of months old, and now, with her recent qualification in early childcare, she was Breanna’s primary nanny. She was supported most afternoons that Trish was busy by Adriana, who was studying graphic design part-time. Adriana was the tiny blonde bombshell of the group known, in their younger, wilder days, as the Unholy Trio. Both girls had a natural way with children, and Breanna adored them. Casey spent at least three or four hours on weekdays doing preschool-type activities, including going to music sessions, play groups and playgrounds in the nearby suburbs so that Breanna could have contact with other children. Unfortunately, the chance of a demon in the City meant that those outside excursions would be curtailed for the meanwhile, and she would be kept safely within the protection of Haven’s shielding wards.
Jade, the third member of the Trio, had already collected Flora for classes. The tall, willowy girl, with hair so pale it was almost white and looks that could grace any catwalk, had been the first to stick up her hand when an offer to attend university, and be paid for it, was put on the table. It was the best solution Kyle and Trish could think of to give Flora a bodyguard that blended into her life when Sicarius would stand out or needed time off. Jade had always wanted to study further but hadn’t had the financial resources. History wasn’t her preferred major, but she hadn’t seemed to mind. Trish made a quick note on her phone to speak to Sicarius about Flora’s date night and to call the Magi to recheck the wards around Haven.
Kyle had been unusually quite at breakfast, and he and Derek had exchanged several loaded looks. Trish knew better than to ask, and didn’t want to alarm Flora, so held her tongue. Her bacon, eggs and toast had tasted like cardboard in her mouth, but she’d made herself eat. Not eating was the Werewolf equivalent of a human not taking vital medication. A hungry wolf was a dangerous wolf.
Trish switched her phone to semi-silent, only an Alliance alert or Casey would get through, just as Derek reappeared from the bathroom where he’d changed into beige chinos and a white button-up shirt. A quiet tap on the door heralded Sicarius’s arrival.
“Our visitor is awake and fed and ready when you are,” Sicarius told Kyle, nodding a polite greeting to Derek and narrowing his eyes on Trish’s face. She knew he could see beneath the makeup to the dark semicircles under her eyes.
Kyle’s hand touched her shoulder. “Are you ready?” he asked her. Not a chance, but she looked up at him and nodded, straightening her spine and lifting her chin.
“Are you?” she asked him back, covering his hand with her own.
“No,” he said candidly, “but let’s go anyway.”
Riley once again sat at the table in the Hive’s conference room, her hands still bound by the Werewolf handcuffs. The handcuffs were an invention by the Dynamo Duo: Mac, Gabi’s unofficial bodyguard, and Savannah, a Vampire friend of Julius’s. Between them they had produced over a dozen weapons and tools for use on or by the various supernatural races. Most were specialized weapons, but there were also those that made life easier for Vampires and even Werewolves. These included a spray-on UV skin protection for Vampires who were strong enough to defy the pull of daysleep and wanted to go out in the daylight, a UV-blocking film coating for glass to protect Vampires from the sun, and an extra-special armour coating that bonded to metals as well as fabric and rendered things like cars, swords, body armour and the walls of their own isolation bay almost indestructible.
The handcuffs were a combined effort with the Magi, however. They were magically spelled to be virtually unbreakable. Stainless steel to the unknowing eye, they boasted a pure liquid-silver core, which, if somehow broken, would explode outward. You didn’t want to be a Werewolf within two feet of them when that happened. Though it wouldn’t ultimately kill the Werewolf, the silver-sickness would have them writhing in agony and utterly defenceless in mere seconds.
“Good morning, Riley,” Kyle said as they entered the room. His tone was curt and carefully emotionless. “Apologies for not being able to finish our conversation last night. You have our undivided attention now though.” He pulled out a chair for Trish and saw her seated before sitting down himself. They were on the far side of the table from the blonde woman. She didn’t look any worse for wear after a night in the infirmary, though her face was now devoid of make-up, and her clothes were no longer neatly pressed. Despite that, she was no less stunning, her eyes large in her face, her skin flawless, and her hair falling in mussy curls. She looked peeved, however.
“The handcuffs really are overkill,” she muttered, not returning the greeting. “Can we just pretend that we’re civilised people?”
“You were found lurking around outside our Haven, a place that is known to very few,” Derek said, taking a seat on Trish’s left. She knew he would be analysing the other woman’s every move, every word and every expression. He’d always been a pretty good judge of character, and the addition of his Werewolf instincts and senses had made him even better. “You haven’t officially asked for permission to even be in the City. You have given us no reason to trust you.”
“You must be the Beta, then.” Riley’s gaze locked onto Derek, and her eyes narrowed. She was studying him as closely as he had studied her.
Derek didn’t respond, simply held her gaze, his wolf surging forward, responding to the perceived challenge. Trish held her breath. She didn’t want to see anyone hurt this morning, but Derek wouldn’t…no, couldn’t…back down from this wolf. Kyle stilled but didn’t intervene, and Sicarius’s right hand moved behind his back as the tension in the air ratcheted up several notches.
A moment later Riley dropped her gaze, not quite biting back a small growl of annoyance.
“I’m not here to hold a pissing contest with you,” she ground out, still not looking up, but Trish didn’t think it was because her wolf had been forced into submission. That stunned and worried her. If this young wolf was strong enough to resist Derek’s authority, what else was she capable of?
“The handcuffs stay on until we decide otherwise,” Derek growled; the essence of his wolf could be heard in his voice.
“Fine,” she said flatly. “Before we continue, however, I feel I should warn you that this is Werewolf business.” Her eyes flicked to Sicarius. “Once this particular cat is out of the bag, it will be difficult to shove it back inside. You might want to keep it contained for as long as possible.”
Kyle hesitated for a moment, though Trish already knew what his decision would be. They all liked Sicarius, but he wasn’t one of them and, as a human, never would be.
“Sicarius,” Kyle said at last, “please leave us.”
The man didn’t move immediately. “You know I can keep my mouth shut,” he said at last. “This could be dangerous.”
“Please,” Kyle reiterated, but there was a note in his voice, a note that not even Sicarius would argue with. With a sharp nod, the man exited the room, shutting the door a little too hard behind him.
They waited until they heard his footsteps retreat into the gym.
“I should start with a little background on myself. I know it may seem superfluous to you right now, but you will understand by the end.” Riley was staring at the table, and she drew in a breath. “My name is Riley Bethany Sanders. My mother was infected by a werewolf in her last trimester of pregnancy. She didn’t make it through the first Change,”
there was a hint of pain in her voice, “but I did, even though I was six weeks premature. My father raised me mostly on his own, but with the help of his brother, my uncle Chase, and his wife, Alison. Once I was old enough to start running around, it was clear I was faster and stronger than anyone else my age. I never got sick, never had a broken bone, rarely fell down, or even hurt myself. No one understood, least of all me.” Her lip twitched with an attempt at a smile; it fooled none of them.
Trish felt the urge to reach out to her but clamped down firmly on it. This woman could be trying to play them; she had to remember that.
“When I was about ten, my father remarried. My stepmother was a driven woman, she never had any particularly strong feelings towards me, neither loved me nor hated me, but she thought if she could harness my physical abilities, get me to ‘knuckle down’ as she saw it, she could have a future professional athlete to market to the world.” The handcuffs made a sharp metallic clank as she sat forward and placed her bound hands on the table. “I knew something wasn’t right. I knew I wasn’t normal. I just didn’t know what was wrong with me.” She paused for a moment looking down at her hands, her eyebrows knitted together in a frown.
Trish knew that Kyle would be feeling for her too. He had been lucky enough to have his mother, who had figured out what happened to her, what she had become, and understood why he was different. She was a strong woman who had coped as best she could. They’d had it tough, having to move often, his mother working menial jobs to get by, but he’d had the gift of her understanding and her coaching on how to act normal, how to keep a low profile. Kyle had kept his secret from everyone. Until he’d met Gabi, of course.
Riley was speaking again. “When I was twelve, I couldn’t take living with my stepmother anymore. I moved in with Uncle Chase and his wife.”
“Not that we don’t all love a good sob story,” Derek said in a bored tone, surprising Trish. “But what has this got to do with stalking our Haven?”
Riley flashed him a baleful glare. “I’m getting to that,” she bit out. “I just want to be sure that even the special children can keep up.”
Derek tensed, his annoyance flavouring the air. Trish surreptitiously put her hand on his thigh and squeezed warningly.
Trish loved her brother. Not for one moment did she regret the fact that he’d bitten her shortly after he’d been Changed into a Werewolf. Their parents had died when Trish was barely a teenager; Derek had raised her after that, though he was hardly out of his teens himself. It had been a burden, and he’d never let that show. He’d built a career as a stuntman and provided everything she needed without a word of complaint. But the virus had Changed something inside Derek, something that had never quite returned to normal. His wolf could be a dark and brooding presence; his temper could be sharp and fiery. Only Trish, Kyle, and his wife, Kimberley, were able to soothe the cantankerous beast.
Derek folded his arms and glared, not responding to the pointed jibe.
“My uncle is a biochemist,” Riley continued, “with an interest in biomedical science.”
A spear of ice hit Trish in the chest, and she felt the men on either side of her go rigid with tension. They all stopped breathing. This was the thing they all tried the hardest to avoid: discovery by humans. Some kind of physical proof of their existence would be all that was required to wipe them off the face of the earth. A witch hunt to eradicate their species. Riley had to have sensed their unease, but she continued speaking as though nothing had changed.
“He had his suspicions. He knew what my father had told him of my mother’s injuries, of how they looked like an animal attack. Like a wolf or bear attack. He knew me as well as anyone; he knew most of what I was capable of. He began asking questions, doing research on his own. Finally, he was able to secretly test my blood.”
Trish closed her eyes. She knew what had to happen. Knew what was running through Kyle’s and Derek’s minds. This man had to die. An innocent human, by all accounts, but it didn’t matter. He, and anyone else who knew the results of these tests, had to be silenced.
“I know what you’re thinking.” Riley’s voice was louder now, almost strident, demanding their attention. “But it’s not like that. He’s not going to out us. You need to listen to me. I’m putting a lot of faith in you by telling you this. I could have kept it quiet. I love Uncle Chase, and he loves me like a daughter. You need to trust me.”
Derek leaned forward, half-rising from his seat to get closer to her. His wolf prowled so close to the surface Trish could scent him.
“Do. You. Know. What would happen if the norms found out about us?” he snarled at her. “Do you understand that they would hunt us and kill us? Like vermin. Every. Last. One of us.”
Trish put a hand on his shoulder, silently begging him to keep control.
“He won’t do that,” Riley almost shouted. “You’re not listening to me. He’s known about the virus for nearly a decade. He hasn’t told anyone about it, not even my father, not even his own wife. Just me.” She paused, staring at them each in turn.
Derek shrugged off Trish’s hand but sat back down.
Kyle leaned forward instead. “What do you mean he’s been studying it?” he asked, his voice low with suppressed rage.
“He did a lot of research. He knows how the virus affects those infected after birth. He’s been trying to understand why I have better control than them. He’s isolated the virus; he’s been trying to find ways to kill it without killing the host, or to mutate it into something more controllable.” She leaned forward as well, looking Kyle dead in the eye. “He’s trying to help those who aren’t like you and me.”
“What…what has he discovered?” Trish asked. Her voice sounded strained to her own ears.
Riley let out a long breath and relaxed a fraction. “That he can’t kill the virus without killing the host; it becomes too intrinsically embedded within the host’s DNA,” she explained. “It becomes a mutualistic symbiosis; both entities benefit from the activity of the other—the virus gets to survive and thrive; the human becomes stronger, faster, healthier. But when one dies, the other does too.”
“And you’re telling us this all why?” Derek asked, still unimpressed.
Riley sucked in her bottom lip, her eyes falling to the table. This was it, Trish realised. This was the crux of the conversation.
“Because after seven years of looking, he found the difference between the virus in my DNA and the virus in normal Werewolf DNA.” Trish wasn’t sure she wanted to know how this man had gained access to ‘normal’ Werewolf DNA. “He thinks he’s discovered a way to alter the original virus. He thinks he can develop a treatment, a kind of gene therapy, that would help make all Werewolves more like us.” She looked up at Kyle, and there was a gleam in her eyes, a fierce kind of hope. “No longer a slave to their wolf, not having to obey the call of the moon, not even needing to Change at all if they don’t want to.” She dragged her gaze from Kyle and caught Trish’s eyes. “It would mean that females could carry a baby to term.” She looked over at Derek. “It would mean fewer rogues, fewer attacks, fewer humans infected.”
And the ultimate end to Werewolves, Trish realised with a jolt. No new infections would mean their population would dwindle, possibly dying out altogether. She was immediately divided in two. No more human lives ripped apart, and she might actually carry a baby in her womb. But what would the world be like with no more Werewolves in it? Packs were only needed to help Werewolves control their base nature. If they were all like Kyle, they wouldn’t need a Pack. No more Packs, no more Pack ties and, ultimately, they would simply fade from existence. Trish was finding it difficult to breathe with the tumult of repercussions sparking through her mind.
“And you’ve come to us with this why exactly?” Kyle seemed far better composed than Trish, but she could sense the echo of his own disquiet.
“Because he needs one particular thing to complete the treatment. A particular DNA string that he is confident would be produ
ced by the offspring of two born-wolves.”
There was silence for several moments.
“Ah, wait…what?” Trish stammered. “What are you saying?”
Riley’s gaze dropped to the table, where her dark red fingernails beat a nervous patter. “He needs the DNA from a baby conceived by Kyle and myself.”
And the shocks kept on coming. Trish’s world tilted alarmingly.
Riley rushed on in the face of all their horrified expressions. “I wanted to try this the easy way first. I had hoped Kyle would be up for a couple of nights of fun. No harm, no foul. At least until Uncle Chase was sure of the outcome, but it has become clear that’s not going to happen. Not as long as you’re in the picture.” She looked at Trish with a peeved expression. “He really is besotted with you, you know.”
“So you just want us to go into the next room and make a baby?” Kyle asked, shock sharpening his tone. “A baby that your uncle will experiment on and use to create a medical treatment that will first help Werewolves, but ultimately eradicate the Lycanthropy virus.”
“He won’t be experimenting on the baby.” Riley sounded truly aghast. “He just needs a couple of strands of hair or some spit. Babies drool all the time, don’t they?” She was genuinely upset that they thought she might treat a baby badly. “If it made you feel better, I’m happy to give up my parental rights to the baby. Think of me as a surrogate. You and Trish can raise it as your own. You would have full control. I’m having too much fun to want to be tied to being a mother anyway.”
Trish hadn’t missed that Riley didn’t deny that she and Kyle would have to have sex in order to create this baby.
“Is IVF an option?” Derek ground out, his mind going the same place as hers.
“Only if you know a clinic you feel you can trust with something this…important,” she replied. Her tone was acerbic, but there was something else in her voice. Understanding? Frustration? “My uncle’s operation doesn’t extend to foetus creation. That’s a very specialized field.”
Raising Hell Page 9
