by Jory Strong
An ugly laugh met the comment. “Are you, Radek? The Ivanov patriarch pays my salary. Your brother Viktor gives the orders I say ‘yes Sir’ to, not you. If you and I didn’t share a common interest when it comes to liking women dead at the end of our fun, I wouldn’t be standing in this shit hole. I’d be in my nice bunk fantasizing about killing the whore underneath me while I pounded into her with my cock.”
Someone banging on the door jerked Rebekka’s eyes open. A voice from the other side yelled, “Get out here, Gregor. Now. Captain Orst wants to see you. He wants to hear what you’ve got to say about letting three convicts die and why you and Morse left their bodies behind. I want to know the same.”
Hope surged to life inside Rebekka at the mention of the guardsman she’d met in The Iberá’s study. It had to be the same man. He must have accompanied the convict work-gang. It wasn’t unheard of when their labor was contracted out.
She struggled into a sitting position, grateful her hands were bound to her ankles in front of her instead of behind. She tried desperately to get the gag out of her mouth, and, finding it impossible, to wriggle to a place where the man at the door would see her when it opened.
Her control of her gift slipped. The goats resumed bleating frantically and trying to escape their pen. The taste of disease filled her mouth and clung to her nostrils, bringing with it another nearly overwhelming urge to vomit.
“Get out here, Gregor!”
“Go,” Radek said, moving the short distance to Rebekka and using his foot to send her sprawling backward. “I don’t want to deal with that prick Orst tonight, or my brother’s lapdog Nagy. Take care of your mess or you won’t get to have fun with your prize.”
The militiaman left.
Radek bolted the door after him then paced in agitation back and forth between Rebekka and the pen.
He cursed Gregor and Orst and Nagy. Muttered about changing his plan, about the goats not being completely ready, about the wisdom of freeing a couple of them since there were tigers in the area.
Desperation seized Rebekka. Somehow she had to escape and get to Captain Orst. She had to tell him Radek was purposely letting plague loose. She had to stop the Weres from attacking the encampment and slaughtering innocent people for something only Radek was responsible for.
His head whipped around suddenly, catching her looking at him.
Fear entered his expression. It scared him that she’d overheard his mutterings. That she might have guessed what he was doing.
Radek came over to her. He drew the pistol from a holster at his side and pressed the barrel to her forehead.
Her heart thundered in her chest. The bleating of the goats was so loud she wasn’t sure anyone would hear the sound of gunfire over it.
His finger tightened on the trigger then released it. Tightened and released again as if he was working himself up to pulling it.
Pounding on the door made his hand jerk. Rebekka whimpered, knowing she would be dead if the knock had come an instant earlier, when his finger touched the trigger.
“Who is it?” he yelled.
“Gregor.”
Radek let him in, the pistol still in his hand.
“Enjoying a little foreplay?” Gregor asked, his smile sickening Rebekka, sending dread crawling through her. She’d seen the same look on other faces after they’d picked a prostitute and made their bargain with the madam.
Radek moved into the doorway. “No one else comes in here tonight. And you don’t leave.”
“Morse is owed a little fun with her. He’s the one who hauled her back.”
Radek cast a glance at Rebekka, visibly calculating the risk. “Just him. Have your fun tonight. Dead or alive, she leaves the encampment tomorrow.”
Gregor laughed. “She’ll be gone. I think we both know which way it’ll be.”
He locked the door after Radek left, unzipped his pants, and pulled out his flaccid cock as he walked toward her.
Her terror projected onto the goats. They hurtled themselves at their pen with renewed agitation.
“Shut up!” Gregor screamed, his penis remaining limp in his hand.
Twenty-eight
ARYCK dropped soundlessly to the ground. Blood seeped from small cuts on his chest and arms where spikes of metal from the concertina wire on top of the encampment walls had pierced the thick leather hides he’d laid on top of them.
Light blazed around only a few buildings, powered by generators that would be easy to disable. Lanterns bobbed in the darkness, marking the places where men patrolled and making them easy targets.
When the first of them fell, the others would riddle the night with machine gun fire. If they weren’t already doing it after seeing amulets blaze to life in the presence of Weres.
There would be dead on both sides before this was over. Rebekka won’t be one of them. She would be safe outside the fence before the attack started.
A short distance away the goats continued to panic at having picked up the scent of so many predators closing in on them. He’d heard them from the place Rebekka was taken to the ground, smelled them on one of the men who’d been there and left alive.
Aryck’s lips pulled back in a feral promise of retribution. It was the same man who’d hidden in the tree and masturbated as the hyenas ate the deadly gift he’d left for them.
Aryck pulled the knife from its leg sheath and moved toward the goats. His progress was slowed by the need to stay clear of amulets set throughout the encampment, as well as those worn by the men patrolling in groups of three and four.
He was within sight of the building housing the goats when Rebekka’s scent reached him, wafting through slits in the boards and laced with pain and fear.
Man and Jaguar screamed in silent fury, but hurried footsteps kept Aryck from racing forward.
He ducked behind a pile of dirt left next to a hole leading into a room once buried but now cleared. A human passed close enough for him to know the man had been one of the two responsible for bringing Rebekka to the encampment.
Aryck launched himself, as silent in his two-legged form as he was in his animal one. An amulet at the front of the man’s shirt flashed red, but before he could sound a warning, the blade in Aryck’s hand sliced through flesh and muscle and blood supply as easily as a jaguar claw through hide.
Sheathing the knife, Aryck took up the dead human’s gun. He checked to make sure it was ready to fire, delayed only long enough to drag the body to the excavated hole and tumble it in, hoping to delay discovery long enough to set Rebekka free.
Anticipating the door would be locked, he ran the remaining distance, used momentum to force his way into the building and Jaguar agility to get out of the doorway. A glance was all Aryck needed to take in the scene. To see Rebekka’s bruised face and the cloth keeping her screams silenced, her shirt hanging open after she had been chased and knocked to the ground, a man reaching for a machine gun, his zipper down and his tiny cock hanging limp.
Fury engulfed Aryck. Rage overwhelmed reason and eradicated any thought of remaining undetected. He aimed and pulled the trigger, the bullets making the man dance backward until the gun was empty.
Aryck tossed it aside and hurried to Rebekka. She was standing, tugging off the gag, hastily putting her shirt to rights.
Koren’s mind touched Aryck’s in instant communication. We’ll divert their attention elsewhere.
“Let’s go,” Aryck said, wanting to shake her, kiss her, punish and cherish her all at the same time.
Rebekka resisted when he tried to hurry her toward the door. “The goats are diseased,” she said, halting him in his tracks. “They carry something that will kill Tigers, maybe other things. There’s a man here I trust. A captain in the guard. He promised The Iberá if I ever needed his aid, he’d give it. Leave. I’ll find him. I’ll—”
The Jaguar snarled at the very idea. The man growled, “I’m not leaving you.”
There was no time to argue. No time to deal with the threat the goats presented except one way
.
Lanterns lit the small area. Barrels of fuel were stored against one wall like a private hoard.
Aryck picked up the dead man’s machine gun. Despite what he felt for Rebekka he had a duty to the pack.
He jerked her to his chest, clamping her there.
“Forgive me,” he said, doubting in his heart it would be possible for her to do, but pulling the trigger anyway, and killing the goats with the sweep of his arm.
She stood stock-still when he released her. Didn’t move again until fire raged in the pen, consuming straw and eating at corpses alike. Then she ran for the door.
He followed, grabbing her arm and dragging her into the darkness, away from the building that rapidly became engulfed in flames.
In the distance arrows tipped with fire rained down on the encampment. Wolves howled and Hyenas laughed. Lion and Jaguar roared while Coyotes sang and humans yelled.
He feared she’d curse him, revile him for what he’d done; instead Rebekka turned into him, pleaded with her eyes and voice. “Let me find Captain Orst. I can stop this. I can make sure there’s no more virus and the person responsible is punished. There’s no need to kill innocent humans and start a war that will lead to Weres being legally hunted. Please, Aryck. Leave. Trust me to do this.”
Every instinct demanded he get her away from the encampment. Both Jaguar and man bridled at the ease in which she seemed to think she could send them to safety while remaining in danger herself.
He should say no. But he found he couldn’t.
“We’ll look for this Captain Orst,” he said, sending a message to his father to have those outside continue providing a distraction instead of attacking in earnest.
Rebekka closed her mind to the carnage they left behind. There was nothing she could do for the goats. Nothing she could change.
Despite the horror of what Aryck had done, she understood his actions. She accepted the necessity of it. Leaving the animals alive was too great a risk.
She had no time to heal them if Radek was to be stopped and war against the Weres avoided. And yet her heart wept all the same. She could have healed them. If not for their trying to get to her, Gregor would have raped her.
They found Captain Orst shouting orders to men in black-striped clothing. He turned when Rebekka called his name, shocked recognition coming to his face as he saw her step into the light.
Immediately he strode toward her. The amulet lying against his chest flaring when he was steps away.
He started to draw his weapon but stopped when Rebekka said, “Radek is responsible for the trouble with the Weres. He let plague lose on their lands. Elk, Wolves, and Hyenas have been affected so far.”
“You have proof?”
There was no hiding the truth, no need to now that she’d gained a measure of control when it came to bringing the sick to her. “My gift drew me here. The goats being guarded by Gregor were diseased. I’m the reason the three convicts he was with earlier are dead. They caught me in the woods. The Were protected me against being raped but couldn’t stop Gregor and his friend from bringing me here. I was in the building when Radek was there. I heard him mumbling to himself.”
“Remain here,” Orst said, turning and walking away, disappearing from sight for moments that seemed to drag even as they made Rebekka’s heart race and her mouth grow dry.
He returned accompanied by six men wearing the uniform of the Ivanov militia, including one wearing a captain’s stripes. Radek was with them.
Aryck forced her behind him, keeping the machine gun aimed at the approaching men. “Do you continue to trust him?”
“Yes.”
The men stopped before the amulets they wore recognized Aryck. Orst continued on, into striking distance.
“Captain Nagy is prepared to search Radek’s quarters for proof of Rebekka’s claim,” he said to Aryck. “You’re free to keep the knife. But you need to surrender the gun before the two of you can accompany us.”
Rebekka touched Aryck’s back. It vibrated with tension, with reluctance, with the struggle to trust others for protection instead of relying on himself.
“Please, Aryck,” she whispered, leaning forward and placing a kiss between his shoulder blades, uncaring if Captain Orst and the others knew she’d taken a Were for a lover.
Aryck let the butt of the machine gun swing so the barrel was pointing at a star-filled sky. With a low growl he said, “Take it.”
Orst took the weapon, and they joined the others. He handed it to one of the militiamen.
“Put the amulets under your shirts,” Captain Nagy said.
After his men had complied, he forced Radek forward with a pistol pressed to his back. The other five militiamen fanned out, two of them flanking Rebekka and Aryck, rifles held across their arms in a casual pose, but barrels aimed and fingers resting on the triggers.
The terror in the encampment was palpable. Outside the walls the night was filled with the sounds of Weres in their animal forms. Inside them men shouted orders to move the barrels containing fuel and get the trucks away from wooden buildings, concentrating on salvaging and slowing the spread of fire rather than wasting water in an attempt to put it out.
Men wearing work-gang clothing and others bearing the tattoos of lawbreakers worked side by side with guardsmen, militiamen, and prostitutes in various stages of undress.
Radek’s agitation increased as they neared the building that must be their destination. He looked around frantically for an ally but whether it was because they were caught up in their tasks or because they didn’t want to become involved, backs remained turned in his direction.
“He stinks of fear,” Aryck murmured. “It grows stronger with each step he takes.”
Radek bolted, only to be immediately dropped to the ground by Captain Nagy.
The militiaman holstered his weapon and freed handcuffs from a pouch attached to his belt. He wrenched Radek’s arms behind his back, securing them with a snick and slide of metal on metal, before fishing a key ring out of Radek’s pocket and tossing it to Captain Orst.
Captain Nagy stood, hauling Radek to his feet.
“This betrayal will cost you,” Radek said, expanding his threat to include all of the militiamen. “My family will make it impossible for any of you to find work. You’ll be lucky if you can eke out a living in the red zone.”
Orst unlocked and opened the door. Light poured out, a luxury created by the generator steps away.
With a shove Captain Nagy forced Radek forward toward Orst. “Take charge of him.”
“In,” Orst said, the look on his face revealing how much he would enjoy a challenge from Radek.
Radek entered. When a militiaman would have followed, Captain Nagy lifted a hand. “You men stay out here.”
He pointed to where the generator stood, its steady throb at odds with the noise and confusion coming from behind them. To the man closest to it, he said. “Get the can of gasoline. Put it next to the door.”
As the militiaman complied, Nagy unholstered his pistol. A glance at Rebekka and Aryck, accompanied by the flick of his wrist, indicated they were to enter the building next.
Aryck tensed. Rebekka’s heart pounded. If she was wrong—
I’m not. Radek’s increased agitation and doomed escape attempt had to mean something inside the building would incriminate him. She stepped through the doorway, knowing Aryck would follow her.
A low growl rumbled in his throat as soon as he did. “Something died in here,” he said, using his body to position her between him and the wall.
Captain Nagy entered. The door closed behind him, trapping air and scent inside.
Rebekka could smell a hint of urine and voided bowels. She remembered the conversation she’d overheard. “Gregor said he and Radek shared a common interest. They both like to kill women at the end of their fun.”
Captain Orst frowned, directed his words at Nagy. “The Were smells death in here. Two prostitutes have gone missing. The last one left the broth
el building with Radek but never returned. He claimed he finished with her early and sent her away. Gregor provided an alibi, saying he saw her later going off with someone else.”
Captain Nagy shrugged. “While I find the murder of a prostitute personally distasteful, it’s not what brings us here. Do what you can to prove the healer’s allegations against Radek before this night ends in slaughter.”
Still standing protectively between her and Captain Nagy, Aryck flexed and unflexed his fingers, as though he was close to shifting forms and attacking.
Rebekka touched his back. Stroked. Her stomach knotting in nervous anticipation as Captain Orst went to the desk.
One of the keys slid smoothly into the top drawer. Orst pulled it open and reached in, removing a green canister whose design and appearance made Rebekka think of something left over from the days of war.
Setting it on the desk, he said, “It’s got an image of a wolf engraved into the metal.”
A second canister joined the first. “Hyena.”
A third followed. “This one appears more generic. I presume it’s meant for big cats of all types, certainly the image could mean mountain lion or jaguar.”
The muscles against Rebekka’s hand bunched in a prelude to attack. She wrapped her arms around Aryck’s waist. “Wait,” she whispered, hugging him tightly.
Twenty-nine
ORST’S expression held nothing but loathing as he looked at Radek. “Death is too good for a man willing to unleash plague. Tell me where the information files relating to these canisters are.”
Radek sneered, his earlier fear falling away. “Find them yourself. If you can. You have no evidence against me. All you have is the accusation of a woman who is willing to sleep with an animal. Even if you did have proof, I’d take my chances with a jury of my peers. They’d see me as a hero! A visionary! Someone with the courage to act and get rid of the Weres.”
“They’d see you for what you are, the worst of what humans are capable of.”
Orst placed his hands on the keyboard and began typing. Rebekka’s only experience with computers was at the library. She didn’t know how to do more than perform searches for information on what the librarian called an internet, a network of huge private computers all storing massive amounts of data and connected together by cables running underground.
