The attempt made little difference.
A gurgling exhale rattled through the room. There was a flicker of irritation over the little girl’s features. The same irritation one might display upon the discovery of a gnat floating in their wine. She marched around John’s body to stand beside his head. Blood bubbles piled over his throat. His mouth wordlessly opened and closed, the exposed muscle of his jaw contracting and relaxing.
“Darling,” she sang. “I’m in a meeting.”
She lifted her heel and buried it in his skull. Vincent felt the blood drain from his face. Throughout his life as a prowler and as a werewolf, he’d seen some of the bloodiest deaths imaginable. But never with a dose of Alice-in-Wonderland drugs coursing through his system.
The room spun, faces and objects leaping out at him. He heard himself hyperventilating at the thought of drawing attention to himself. Lucas planted a hand on the back of his neck, forcing his head between his knees. He tried to breathe slowly into his sleeve. The wolf stepped up to help him.
“Ah, Vincent.” The little girl’s tone was amused. Apparently, he’d captured the attention of everyone after all. “Thank you for reminding me. Everyone, you remember–”
The meeting room doors burst open.
“What now?” she roared.
Vincent cringed. He turned his head to see who had dared to interrupt her. Two patrol guards visibly flinched under her wrath, but they didn’t move to leave.
“Can’t you smell it?” One of them looked over his shoulder. “There’s smoke in the corridor.”
Chairs creaked as people squirmed uneasily. Murmurs broke out among the pack.
The little girl held up her hands for silence. “Family, please. Settle down.”
The slightest turn of her head was enough to signal Ken. He strode toward the doors to investigate. A stale draft followed in his wake.
Vincent felt the wolf pacing inside him. It was alarmed, but not by the report of smoke. It sensed someone outside City Hall, circling in a predatory pattern.
He slowly sat up, aided by the hand Lucas placed on his shoulder. There was someone just outside the far window. Their footsteps moved silently over the grass, but he knew they were there. Even after they rounded the corner.
His fellow pack members must have felt it too. Several of them were standing now. The little girl’s words fell on deaf ears. She may have been their Alpha, but even the rigid hierarchy of the animal kingdom meant nothing against survival.
Ken returned to the room.
He spoke fast. “There are three fires. One on the southeast corner, one on the roof, and one just behind the front doors. The doors are chained shut from the outside.” Before he’d finished speaking, a black haze crept into the room.
That’s when chaos broke out.
Chairs tipped over as half the pack ran for the door. When an older woman broke one of her heels and fell, scarcely anyone noticed. They trampled her. The scent of her blood mingled with that of the smoke.
The remaining pack members began to change. There was a dull thud when each one of them hit the floor. Cries overlapped with the sound of crunching bone. Blood washed across the floor in a flood of scarlet.
John lay still as the blood soaked his clothing. His body was human in death, one eye vacantly staring from his broken skull. It seemed to meet Vincent’s horrified stare, taunting him.
Wriggling lumps of flesh half-covered by suits and dresses were scattered throughout the room. Vincent gazed around at silk and lace, half-buried in skin. He observed bow ties floating in pools of blood and entrails. Somehow, the shoes affected him the most. They were empty. White satin with crimson flecks, leather caked with bloody hair. Every shoe an unfilled void.
Screams overlapped as Vincent fell to the floor, weakly coughing. The nightmarish scene only worsened when he tried to get his bearings. One grotesque face melted into another until he was numb with shock. Though the wolf was clawing at him to do something, he was too tired to make a decision. Everything was happening too fast.
He tugged at his collar, opening it further. It was too hot. He couldn’t breathe.
“Vincent!” He heard Doc calling. “Where are you?”
The floor vibrated with approaching footsteps. He couldn’t make out so much as a shadow as he gazed around, feeling helpless and blind. The smoke was thickening, veiling the horrors surrounding him.
Hands slipped under Vincent’s knees and shoulders. The ground fell away, and he found himself cradled against someone’s chest. Doc? He tried to fight, but between the drugs and the smoke filling his lungs, his flailing attempts were uncoordinated and pathetic.
“I gotcha,” Doc muttered into his ear, as if to calm him.
They moved through the smoke, but even when his eyes shifted to those of the wolf, Vincent couldn’t see anything.
He heard a screech when Doc stepped on someone neither human nor animal. There was a squishing sound as he pulled his foot from the flesh.
When they reached the hall, an orange glow penetrated the smoke. It was brightest up ahead. The same welcoming light had appeared in his dream. Despite appearances, it wasn’t the same.
He struggled against Doc’s hold with renewed vigor as they approached the fire, suddenly fearful that Doc intended to do away with him. If he didn’t want anyone else to know immunity against silver was possible–
“It’s all right,” Doc chanted, tightening his grip. His arms were like iron bars for how they held firm. “It’s all right, you’re all right.”
The heat became unbearable. In seconds, Vincent was both sweating and trembling with cold. His teeth audibly chattered. When grit flew into his eyes, he had no choice but to bury his face into Doc’s shirt. Just before he did so, he caught sight of the flames behind a half-charred corpse.
The world spun when Doc took a sharp turn. They nearly collided with two werewolves in the midst of a scuffle. Threatening snarls proceeded a thud as one werewolf slammed the other into a wall. A framed picture of dandelions fell. Glass shattered.
Doc slipped into a room until the fight moved down the hall. A howl of loss reverberated from somewhere within the building. Then they were on the move. Vincent clenched his eyes shut against the shifting walls. They lengthened and stretched. Even with his eyes closed, he felt them bending. Moving.
Shots were being fired outside. Whoever chained the doors shut must have been waiting for them, executing those who managed to escape the fire.
“Guns,” he choked out, trying to warn Doc. He wanted revenge on Doc for turning him, but first they needed to survive the fire. And whatever threats awaited them. Frantic, he tried again. “Shots outside–”
“I hear them,” Doc tersely answered.
It was then Vincent realized the horror around them had quieted. Stairs creaked under Doc’s feet. The smoke all but disappeared. Wherever they were, they were safe from the fire.
For now.
Chapter Fifteen
Logan circled around City Hall, rifle raised and ready. His eyes scanned the barred windows and roof for any escaping werewolves. The nude bodies of humans – formerly werewolves – already littered the ground. Though Anna had been careful to seal all exits beforehand, the building was in disrepair, and less than ideal for containing werewolves while they burned alive.
He’d realized they might have a problem when howls of agony were punctuated by the tearing of boards and shingles. The flaming hole in the roof was proving popular, despite the fate of those who used it to escape.
The unfair advantage almost made him feel guilty for ending so many lives. But then he reminded himself that the pack was responsible for turning people like Vincent into animals. They tore people from their families in one way or another. Either by turning them into werewolves or by tearing them apart. His guilt faded after that. This needed to be done.
Anna unleashed a yell of fury from the other side of the building. Even as Logan raced around to help her, he heard a gunshot. His speed increased un
til he was sprinting, leaping over the bloody forms of werewolves already dispatched.
A hand grabbed his leg.
Logan let out a cry as he crashed to the ground. His face cracked against the half-skull of some poor woman who’d shown no interest in fighting him. He saw stars – when he was rolled over, that is – and thought about what a pleasant night it might be if he were anywhere else.
Unfortunately for Logan, he wasn’t anywhere else. He was suddenly under the body of a lanky, very pissed off man who only wanted blood. Logan threw back his head and unleashed a bloodcurdling yell when claws dragged down his left arm. More on autopilot than anything else, his right hand grasped the pistol in his thigh holster.
It was common sense to conserve ammunition whenever possible. But damn it if Logan didn’t empty the clip into the man’s chest. He put one bullet between his eyes for good measure. By the time he squirmed out from under his latest kill, he was painfully aware of the time he’d lost. If Anna had been in trouble when she yelled, it might be too late to help her.
Logan grabbed his rifle. His boots slid over the grass, wet with condensation and blood. It glistened under the firelight. Before he turned the corner, he yelled, “Anna! Are you all right?”
Her heavy breathing worried him. “I’m fine. One just took me by surprise. Nearly ripped my head off.”
“I’m coming around. Don’t shoot.”
“No–”
But he was already running toward her. She was on her knees, hunched over the form of a fallen boy. Her hands were shaking.
Logan slid to the ground beside her, lowering his rifle. A quick glance around assured him that they were safe for the moment.
“He’s just a kid,” she murmured in shock. “I’ve never- he’s a kid, Logan.”
Her voice was barely audible over the blaze. This close to the flaming building, the heat threatened to burn his exposed skin. He held up an arm against it.
Refusing to look at the body, he kept his eyes trained on Anna. Hair shielded her face.
“He attacked you, Anna. He would have killed you if he’d had the chance. You did what you needed to do.”
“Did I?” Her voice wavered. “What are we doing here, Logan? Look around you. You were right. We’re killers. We’re no better than they are.”
Logan scanned the area again. It was a training tactic to ensure their safety, but he couldn’t overlook the death surrounding them. Even the cries inside City Hall began to pierce through his façade of cold soldier. But they needed to finish the job. They weren’t out of danger, and never would be if enraged werewolves slipped through their fingers.
Turning his attention back to Anna, he gently cupped her chin. One of his hands brushed back her hair.
It was drenched with blood.
She jerked as if he’d shocked her, knocking his hand away. A fresh gush of blood poured over her face. It shone in the fiery glow until she bent her head once more, unwilling to let him see how bad the damage was.
“What happened?” he gruffly asked, tone demanding answers. She reached up to probe the wound, accessing how deep it was. They trailed from her forehead to her eye, finally pausing at the juncture of her cheek. He sucked in a breath when he realized the wound might leave her blind in one eye.
“I’m fine, Logan, all right?” she snapped. “It’s just a scratch, not a bite. Circle around again while I stop the bleeding.”
Logan tried not to think about how she planned to do that. One thing was for sure: she was down for the count. It would be up to him to see their plan through. If he couldn’t do that, they were as good as dead.
“I’ll circle around once,” he agreed, already rising to his feet. “Don’t fall asleep on me.”
It took everything he had to tear himself from Anna’s side. His feet moved over the ground at a near run, eyes scanning, finger twitching. A veil of smoke cut down visibility until he was forced to slow his pace. Breathless pants morphed into coughs. Grit and ash burned his throat.
The roof of City Hall groaned. His head jerked up. As he watched, the roof collapsed in on itself with a tremendous crash. A plume of smoke rose into the sky.
The sudden rattle of chains had him racing to the front of City Hall. He mentally took inventory of his weapons. One empty pistol, one loaded. One loaded rifle. One silver knife. Extra ammo was running low.
Fantastic.
Growling behind the chained entrance warned him of at least three werewolves. They were working together to break free. Logan scarcely had time to brace himself before the doors burst open. Broken chain links flew toward him, a danger in their own right. He managed to avoid their trajectory without taking his eyes off the threat behind them.
“Anna!” he yelled, knowing she was distracted by the boy she’d killed. “Heads up! At the ready!”
Not three, but four werewolves charged forth from City Hall. They split off in separate directions, having clearly strategized what would lend them the highest chance of survival. The infuriating thing was, it worked. Logan wasn’t used to prowling for more than one werewolf at a time.
But when a werewolf veered around the corner towards Anna, he wasted no time aiming to kill. His first shot missed. He was forced to run through the smoke to keep the werewolf in sight. The other three must have disappeared beyond the road behind him.
There were many things he expected to see when he skidded to a halt. But seeing Nurse Biel naked as the day she was born wasn’t one of those things. And if that wasn’t bad enough, she was using Anna as a human shield. Although– wait, that was sort of a good thing. Nevertheless, he wouldn’t stand for it. He raised his rifle with a cold glare.
Nurse Biel sneered at him. Her face was coated with soot. A portion of her scalp was missing, as if it had been sheared off. Bloody strands of hair clung to her face.
“Put it down, boy,” she rasped. “Before I slit this pretty throat.”
A claw glinted in the moonlight. It was so sharp that a thin line of blood had already formed over Anna’s skin.
Anna appeared dazed, though there was a spark of anger in her uninjured eye. She wasn’t too far gone. She was still a prowler. They would fight this.
“I said–” Nurse Biel coughed. Her claw dug into Anna’s throat, making her grunt. “Put it down.”
Logan clenched his jaw. His grip on the rifle loosened slowly. Thoughts racing, trying to think, he tossed it onto the grass.
“So what now?” he casually asked, as if they were talking about the weather. “The pack is finished. The sanctuary is crumbling around you. More prowlers are on the way.”
“For a boy with so much to lose,” she hissed. “You have a funny way of reminding me why I should let your girlfriend live.”
“I’m not his girlfriend,” Anna broke in.
Logan did a double take. Dating him was nothing to be ashamed about.
Nurse Biel’s throaty laugh made his eye twitch.
“Such a coy little girl.” She bent her head closer to Anna’s shoulder and pointedly sniffed. “I can smell him on you, dear. Did you think a cold shower would hide the scent of his bite?”
Logan winced. Now that she mentioned it, he distantly recalled using his teeth at some point. He was a little preoccupied at the time–
“If that’s not a mark of possession,” Nurse Biel shivered. “I don’t know what is.”
Anna had heard enough. Logan could tell by the murderous fury in her expression. He could have warned Nurse Biel about the fire she was stoking – if she would have shut up for a minute. But she was too wrapped up in her own words. She never even saw the throwing star before it was buried in her temple.
It was a death blow. Anna’s hand was clenched around the silver so tightly that blood trickled down her wrist. Her other hand was quick to knock away the claw before it retracted.
Nurse Biel’s eyes rolled until only the whites were visible. She reached up to clutch her head, an inhuman screech emitting from her mouth. Blood poured from her nose. It burne
d away her lips with a searing hiss, leaving only a bloody grin of bared teeth. Her eyes swelled and softened in their sockets like hard boiled eggs.
The throwing star sank deeper into her head as the skull around it melted. She stumbled to the left, as if to escape it.
Anna raised her gun. “Just die.”
The blast echoed through the night.
Chapter Sixteen
“Where–” Vincent tried to lift his head to look around. “Where are we?”
“Basement.” Doc carried him to a corner, carefully lowering him to the concrete floor.
Vincent sprawled against the wall. Cold seeped through his formal jacket, chilling him to the bone. The wolf couldn’t decide whether he was too hot or too cold, and neither could he. The air was clean. As he sputtered and coughed, that’s all he really cared about.
Doc disappeared down the aisle, leaving him alone. The only company he had were the muffled sounds of torment above and the shots outside. He’d spent countless hours down here, sifting through files. The file cabinets loomed over him now like the walls of a maze.
A sudden crash made him look up in terror. The roof had collapsed. It was only a matter of time before the above floor went too. And he was just sitting here, waiting for it to happen, trapped by walls of concrete. When had everything gone so wrong?
With a shaky sigh, Vincent wondered if he might die tonight. Whoever had surrounded the building was well organized, methodical in their execution. It might have been Logan and Anna, unknowingly trapping him with the rest of the pack. Or it might have been others from the Society. In that case, he was nothing more than a former prowler. One who’d met his tragic demise the moment he was bitten.
The moments passed. Left alone with his thoughts, Vincent began to panic. What if Doc had left him? He wasn’t strong enough escape on his own. They needed to find a way out now.
Fever Page 10
