Julianna led Elisabeth into an office decorated with artwork that Fane must've stolen over the decades. Elisabeth surveyed the walls for her stuff and was disappointed to see that he didn't have any. Then she was disappointed in herself for being disappointed that he didn't.
Fane was seated behind a large desk. Julianna slinked toward him, dropping into his lap and attacking his mouth, brushing his tongue with hers and guiding his hand to one of her breasts, forcing his fingers to squeeze. She moaned and pushed his head closer against her mouth, staring at Elisabeth through the affection exchange with a smile at the corner of her mouth.
Elisabeth crossed her arms and turned toward the paintings as Fane pushed Julianna off and slapped her ass.
"Leave," he said.
The girl did as she was told, scoffing as she passed Elisabeth on the way out, slamming the door in one final display of childish jealousy.
"Admittedly, she can be such a foolish girl,” Fane said.
"Where is Allen?"
"He is thinking things over."
"He has nothing to think over."
"I knew you wanted a toy more than you wanted a partner."
"Just give him to me and let us leave."
"I can't." He came around the desk, pulling his tie loose. "This charade," he said, staring at the coiled silk in his fist. "What is it about the suit and tie that implies trust? It's a convention as outdated as Alina herself, isn't it? I offer those unwashed masses down there the opportunity to evolve, and yet, I must do it according to their mores. To them, it is not enough to be free of human confines. They seek a return on investment, too. They don't simply want the wolf...they're all equally desperate to be someone. They demand to be my lieutenants, my businessmen, my politicians...those are the prices of loyalty."
"Anton, I just want Allen."
"I shouldn't have expected them to care about our prosperity, though. How can they when the concept of lycanthropy is newfound in their minds? An oversight I should've expected. That I need to prove ourselves to these wretches in the meantime, though...well, that fills me with the kind of rage I cannot overlook."
"You're so blind that you feel like everyone owes you loyalty just because. That's why you've taken Allen. That's why you're hostile with me."
"No." Fane leaned in and their eyes held level—the first time since seeing him in Greifsfield where his gaze wasn't contemptuous. His expression said they were on equal footing. "Elisabeth...I just want you to join me. You and your pup, of course."
He fumbled his way down the row of buttons on his shirt, snapping them away one-by-one.
"I'm sorry, what you are doing here...there is a reason I left this life."
"I've already told you how badly I need you by my side. I need you to my left and Allen can sit at yours."
His shirt slid from his shoulders.
"I want things like they were, Huntress, please. Wield this power with me. There is not another varcolac in this world I trust more than you."
"Afraid your pup army is really just rats?"
Fane was at his belt now, sliding it free from each loop on his pants.
"A little. But someone has to do this. I have decided to make a better world for us. You imply that this makes me a villain."
When Elisabeth said nothing more, he stepped free of his pants and pulled his boxers down next.
"I will not hesitate to slice you," she said of his nudity. "Step closer and see what happens."
He laughed and sidestepped her. "You are so arrogant, my ice princess. All those centuries of being wooed by royalty and celebrity have made you a victim of your own hype."
Fane went to the far corner of the room and poured himself a drink. He didn't offer Elisabeth one.
She felt Allen close by, tasted his musk on her tongue.
"Let me show you something." He swallowed a shot of brandy, and motioned to the television monitor atop his desk. Fane refilled his glass and carried it back toward her. "You love to pretend you're the prototypical creature, don't you? The high and mighty Huntress—the dark and irresistible she-creature whose rounded figure and flawless face have lured many a man and woman to untimely demises."
"If you say so."
"I was surprised to see you make a careless mistake like this, Elisabeta."
Fane flicked a button and brought the monitor to life. A full-color, high angle shot of a cabana hotel room. Elisabeth recognized it instantly as the Big East and felt her chest tighten. A young woman emerged from the bathroom wearing a white towel around her wet body. The girl strode to the front door and pulled it open. After a moment, Elisabeth stepped into the shot.
Her jaw dropped as the bottom fell out of her stomach. Her innards plummeted in free fall and panic took hold. Her face flushed, and she forgot to breathe. Soon, it felt like she was sitting inside of a sauna.
Fane was unable to contain his smile.
"There's a lot of down time on this video," he hit the forward button. "I couldn't get that idiot Eastman to slip cameras into every bedroom, so we must use our imaginations when determining what the two of you were doing in there for such a long time. How fortuitous, though, that you decided to slink into the bathroom to bait the girl. Ah, here it is..."
Elisabeth reappeared, her naked body moving confidently across the living space and slipping into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.
"I think we both know what comes next," Fane said. "But I'll leave you to see..."
And she saw.
Saw the nude girl approach. Saw splinters explode in her face. Saw her own furry hand pull her against jutting wood. Saw Molly's face sliced open as she spun toward the camera, screaming. Saw the wolf burst through the door completely, attacking in a flurry of claws. Saw the quick and bloody struggle before the young woman and the gigantic black wolf slip out of frame.
"How does it feel? Knowing that you, of all wolves, could be our undoing? The Huntress might just lead to the ultimate scientific discovery of the 21st century...the existence of lycanthropy. Once this video hits the web, they'll hunt our kind in every country. And that will be the beginning. Just wait, humans are killing other humans out of fear and paranoia. Think of the headlines! 'Man kills suspected werewolf neighbor!' They'll capture us, turn us into lab rats. All because of this. I mean, we would've taken her without you, Elisabeta. I would've had a beautiful young woman like that converted, but you, self-serving as always, wiped her out for your own selfish needs. So allow me to cut to the chase, bitch. Leave here saying anything other than 'yes' to my final offer, I will make sure you are disgraced. Alina will learn precisely who heralded our destruction."
Elisabeth seethed, hitting back with her only remaining defense.
"You may get off on having me under your thumb, Fane, but think about this: where is your money man, Rory Eastman? Know why he's not here? Because I tore out his fucking heart. But not before he told me everything about you. What do you think happens to all of his assets when he turns up deceased...and he will. Outside of Greifsfield so you can't sweep it under the rug. Did you think that turning him was protection enough? That you did not have to tie up every legal loose end?"
Fane didn't flinch.
"You never were very good at sabotage. I needed Eastman to get me into Greifsfield but, guess what? I'm here. You've done me a slight disservice, nothing more. In fact, eliminating someone as bothersome as Rory Eastman saves me the trouble of having to do it myself."
"Several of us are en route to Daciana as we speak. Alina will know everything soon."
She might have embellished the numbers but there was no way for Fane to know that. Mason was fast and formidable. He could get there as quickly as anyone could. Hopefully he was boarding a ship right now.
"That was bound to happen," Fane nodded. "It changes nothing. There are plenty of mouths speaking into Alina's ear. Nothing changes, least of all my offer. Ally with me or suffer the shame of disgracing your kind."
"And if I say yes, what of it? Are you really go
ing to trust that you have my loyalty?"
"I'll keep this disc to insure I do."
"We are in a cynical age, Fane. People will not believe a video recording."
"That is the beauty of it. It doesn't matter if they believe it. Think of it as planting a seed. Of course there will be cynics. But nobody will know for sure. Especially when the victim in the video no longer walks the earth. This evidence is convincing enough for many and you know it."
Elisabeth gave a consolatory nod. Like that, she'd been beaten, and at such a shameless game. Fane knew no other kind.
Greifsfield should've been in her rearview as soon as she realized Fane was a neighbor, but the lure of being amongst her own kind had proved too great. She wouldn't have met Allen had she left, either. It was because of Allen that there were no more options, though.
Fane had attained her obedience once more.
"I want to see you mingling," he said, massaging her shoulders. "This is not your first Turning. Smile, entice our young pups, and, when the time comes for me to address all those who've survived their injuries, stand beside me. I want them instructed properly, with respect for traditions. That is the cornerstone to the long term loyalty I need."
Elisabeth allowed herself to be ushered from the room. She turned back as Fane closed the door. He paused momentarily, his face in the beginning stages of transformation.
"Before you get any ideas," he said. "This disc has been copied and copied. It's in the possession of many other people around the world. All I have to do is give the word."
The door slammed.
Julianna leaned against the corridor wall, her arms folded beneath her breasts. She smiled, knowing full well Elisabeth had just been dealt a losing blow.
"Enjoy the party," she said as Elisabeth passed. "I'm happy to be working with you."
***
Amanda peered out from the underbrush and surveyed the mansion's back yard. The better part of the afternoon had been spent this way, lying on the forest bed with fatigues drenched in wolf piss to camouflage her scent. The precaution didn't always work, but with so many human guests converging on the spot, it was enough to keep her off the wolves' instinctual radar.
Night had come to Greifsfield, and she moved around the forest's rim, keeping close to the freshly chopped grass that lined the perimeter's edges.
It was six minutes to eight. Thirty-six minutes until Fontaine blew the charges and turned this place into a barbecue pit. Time to cover a few load bearing walls with plastique and smuggle Jack out before that happened. Not much time considering she hadn't yet been inside.
She spotted a guard on the west side of the house. He walked into the back yard and stood motionless, automatic rifle cradled in his arms.
Amanda steadied the MP5 and forgot to breathe. Without night vision, he couldn't see her from his position, though he was also too far away for a guaranteed kill shot. There might be more guards lurking just out of sight. No sense in them seeing their friend take a few shots to the skull when the element of surprise was all she had.
Time to get closer.
The trees covered her as she moved in silence against the yard's edge. Overreaching shadows provided additional shelter as she moved. Black and green camouflage caked across her face, creating more perspiration than she would've liked. Ditto the black wool cap tugged down over her blonde bun.
Distance to the guard dropped to about twenty feet. She got on her stomach and leveled her gun at his chest, ready to fire. Her finger curled around the trigger and prepared to squeeze.
The target turned east and headed for the other side of the house before she could get a clean shot. Amanda squinted to make sure they were alone. The west side was all clear.
She was on her feet again, stealthing toward the target. She let go of the submachine gun as she advanced, leaving it to dangle from the strap hooked to her flak vest. Her hand reached instead for the serrated steel blade and unsheathed all ten inches.
The guard didn't have time to turn.
Amanda clamped a hard hand over his mouth and pulled him off balance. He grunted once before she plunged the saw-like blade into his throat, cutting straight down to the bone. A thick gurgle of blood coughed out of his new mouth while her hands hooked under his arms and pulled him back the way she had come.
When the body was discarded, face down in a thick patch of brush, she retrieved the knife and went running, wiping the blood from it with her gloved hand as she moved. The explosives would eradicate all evidence of her breech before anyone had a chance to be curious. As far as she had observed, the guards didn't check in at neurotic intervals—a misplaced confidence in his men that Anton Fane shouldn't have. She headed for the second floor terrace that jutted out six feet from the house.
Amanda squatted beneath it in the shadows, studying her limited options. Second story access was restricted to the terrace, probably more than twelve feet overhead. For all her arsenal, she had nothing to help with the ascent.
The ticking clock weighed heavy, as did Jack's fate. It was still hard to believe she cared about him, as if getting him out might make up for all the bodies she'd failed to save over the years.
Wide eyes scanned the yard, desperate to find assistance with the balcony. This wasn't a normal home and, therefore, it was unlikely that the gardener had left a stray hose coiled up in the grass somewhere.
Think, dammit!
It was all for nothing if this was as far as she got. She looked down at the MP5, her fingers running along the lengthy strap that clipped onto her.
There was no time to consider it. Clicking on the safety cache, she pulled the weapon free and separated the strap from its loop, straightening it with her thumb. Once finished, she etched out from under the terrace and took a deep breath. This was going to be loud and clumsy.
Amanda tossed the gun upward. It rounded over the railing and cluttered against the vinyl surface, strap dangling between rails.
Oh shit.
She tugged it, dragging the weapon until it wedged firmly against the banister. No guarantee this would work but it was all there was. With a deep breath, she took hold of the strap and climbed.
She didn't weigh much on her own, but the extra fifty pounds of equipment—the Glock, Smith and Wesson .44, the .45 Magnum, the bombs, and not to mention the silver-forged machete that Dexter had packed special—made this more difficult than it needed to be.
The MP5 clanked against the rails, scraping up and down as she pulled toward it with a series of muted grunts.
Almost there...
The strap supported a hundred and seventy pounds of weight quite admirably, though its integrity slipped away with every heft. There was even a tear after the last hoist.
Just...one...more...tug...
Her gloved hand reached out and took hold of the railing bar, hands locking around it. Amanda swung her leg over the rail. Then the other. Back on solid ground. She took twenty seconds to catch her breath, and then threw some glances below to make sure her presence was still undetected.
Somehow, the element of surprise remained hers. She looked at the surrounding forest. When the explosives blew, it would be a mass of spreading flame so large she could almost hear the pained howling now. Then she gave the door a gentle tug and wasn't surprised to find it locked. The slim jim she jostled out of the machete hilt's spare pocket would rectify this. She slipped it into the tiny space against the jamb. Several quick tugs clicked the lock, allowing her to glide the door aside.
Amanda grabbed the MP5 from its resting place against the rail and switched the safety back off. Took a deep breath to cast aside the despair and entered the house, pulling the sliding door closed so not to arouse suspicion.
Below, the sounds of a party in full swing: pulsing, foreign music was the backdrop for an enthusiastic assortment of laughter and friendly conversation. Sounds of orgasms were peppered in through some of the rooms below.
She moved across what appeared to be a spare bedroom, the unused l
inen smell making it feel like a hotel. A quick sweep revealed it to be empty. The party was young and people wouldn't be sneaking up here until it was in full swing. She pressed an ear to the exit and listened. Only silence greeted her back.
Fingers on the knob, she tugged it toward her and peered through the quarter-inch crevice. A guardsman's back wasn't one foot away. He turned, tipped off by the sound of a creaking door.
Amanda didn't have time to think; she flung the door aside and fired. A silent trio of pfts exploded into his back and side, his weapon cluttering to the carpet. He dropped to his knees, staring through the floor with dead eyes and a falling mouth.
She grabbed him by the belt and dragged him into the bedroom, stuffing him and his weapon beneath the master bed. She took the hallway next. Now that it was stained with blood, the time for anonymity was dwindling. The mansion was huge and Jack could be anywhere. Her heart raced at the possibility she might now find him.
Where would they store a prisoner?
The end of the hallway split off to either side, though there was nothing significant veering her attention in one direction over the other. Party noises continued rising from the floor below, and Amanda was determined to check every room up here before plotting a downward path into that lion's den. Didn't know how that was going to work, and hoped that Fane had stashed Jack in one of the twenty or so unused rooms up here. The quiet was often deceiving, so it was possible.
Her sweep was quick. She moved through several stale bedrooms, a couple of bathrooms that were so clean her reflection sparkled in the floor tiles, and a library—each as quiet as the first room. She found two obvious load bearing walls in the study, signified by larger support columns than normal.
She placed the bricks there and found two identical walls in the next room. It made sense, since these rooms were close to the house's center. She slapped more plastique there. When they blew, it would send shingles raining down on the party. The bastards wouldn't be running up here for sanctuary.
Her watch flashed eight sixteen. Fourteen minutes until hell hit this doorstep.
Feral Page 35
