by L. E. Horn
With a shriek of overstressed metal, a chain broke.
Two of our guards backed away, but Ace ran into the room, a hand dropping to the gun at his belt.
Nate’s wulf interpreted the threat, lips retracting to bare his teeth, his eyes glowing crystal-gold. Filled with hate, they fastened on Ace as the red-haired wulf reached out with his free hand and grabbed a bar. Muscles strained, and the bar bent beneath his powerful fingers.
Dammit. I won’t lose him now.
In a surge of desperation, I unleashed my own wulf. Already at the surface, he took me faster than ever before.
Ace strode closer to Nate and undid the strap holding the gun in the holster. I roared, and Ace stopped, his gaze swinging to me. In this form, I towered over him.
“Stup,” I growled, the command coming from deep within. His eyes widened, but I focused on Nate.
“Nate. Luk ut me!”
The gold eyes, rabidly wild, swung my way, and my wulf took over. Every muscle grew still. I sensed the energy gather and pulse forth through my gaze, boring into Nate’s, asking—no, demanding—that he submit.
For a millisecond, his wulf fought, the gold pulsing and the fur along his back bristling erect. But then his ears twitched and bit by bit, he dropped his head. His eyes were the last to slip away, the lids shuttering against the pale crystal irises.
In the sudden silence, a phone buzzed, and Ace turned to stride off before answering.
I breathed a sigh of relief. “Nate,” I repeated. “Luk ut me.”
The eyes swung my way. What I read in them made my heart hurt. The guilt was unmistakable, twisting him up inside.
“Lee,” he said. “Surry.”
“No, Nate.” I took myself back to human, shoving my wulf deep. For once, it went without argument. My words distorted as my jaw slid into its normal configuration. “Yu did great.” My teeth retracted, making me wince. “Now you can practice staying in control as you change.”
He looked away but nodded, and fur fell in russet tufts to the floor as he reverted to human. I glanced toward Ace, who stood a distance away, surrounded by his wulfleng. The hate in the man’s eyes made my skin twitch.
What the hell did I just do? I’d never seen Chris assert his wulf dominance over anyone. If he possessed the ability, wouldn’t he have tried when Peter lost it?
By Ace’s expression, he hadn’t expected what I’d done. But he didn’t seem all that surprised, either. Had he seen it before? Had he dominated wulfleng using similar techniques? I thought of Sam and the tone she sometimes used that exacted such instant obedience in dogs—and men. Was she doing much the same thing, only on a more subtle scale?
Dominance and submission were an essential part of communication in the animal world, an ever-changing dynamic that dictated everything from mating rights to who came first to the table. It was essential to the human world as well, although humans weren’t as conscious of body language because we didn’t always see the push and shove in our everyday relationships. Our awareness remained on a subconscious level, often leaving us confused as to why we felt drawn to some people and anxious around others.
Regardless, I’d already made an enemy in Ace and now he’d seen me—do what, exactly? I hadn’t intended to battle him for control over the training, but it had happened anyway. He would have killed Nate and might now look for an excuse to derail my efforts. But it seemed I had an invisible ally on the other end of that phone, and I glanced to the camera mounted nearest my cell. Whoever watched us acknowledged the merit of my coaching. Did they recognize anything else?
Like that I knew more than I should?
I needed to find out who was behind that camera. They might not even be in this facility. Until I figured that out, I had to hold the cavalry at bay.
I sighed and prepared to coach Nate through another change.
* * *
Meatloaf had never looked so appealing. We heaped our plates before sitting and shoveling.
Hungry as I was, I couldn’t keep up with either Nate or Travis. Nate had put on significant muscle in a short period of time, and Travis was, well, Travis. Lucas chewed slowly as he watched his cousin, before his eyes slipped to Nate. He said something in Cree to Travis that made him pause in mid-chew. I caught the word wetiko.
I looked from Travis to Lucas. “You used that word when Nate changed. What does that mean?”
Lucas’s eyes slipped away from mine, but Travis swallowed and answered. “It’s a Cree word, but the meaning is a bit mixed. For some, it is another word for the windigo or wendigo, a nasty, man-eating monster.” When Nate’s eyebrows lowered, Travis held up a hand. “No, wait for it. Lucas thinks you look like Bigfoot. You know, when you’re a wulf. To Cree and Ojibwe, Bigfoot appears when he’s needed to warn people of danger, and to protect. Our grandmother”—he broke off when Lucas shot him a look—“er, a relative of ours was Ojibwe, and they call Bigfoot the Rougarou.”
Reese had been tracking the conversation with interest. “I’ve read this. Some think Rougarou came from the French word for werewolf.” He frowned. “Loup-garou, I think.”
“I don’t look any different from the rest of you,” Nate growled.
Reese’s eyebrows climbed. “My friend, you are sooo much more. Next time, I’ll hold up a mirror.”
Nate looked like he might argue the point, but I cut him off. “We’re all as different in our wulf state as we are in our human one. Even our eye color depends on our human eyes. Nate’s a big guy, so he’s a big wulf.” I offered the man in question my uneaten roll, and he paused before taking it with a shrug.
After spending time in the company of our wulves, I’d realized that although mutant wulfleng looked similar, there were, in fact, differences between us. We were all larger and more muscled than normal wulfan or wulfleng, with bigger teeth and claws, but there were variations. Travis’s wulf was as broad as him, whereas Lucas was much finer in build, sleek rather than muscled. Reese was long and lean, his muscles were those of a runner, hugging tight to his frame. Now that Danny had put on weight, he approached Dillon’s size, and Nate—well, Nate was positively huge.
His unusual size made our wulfleng guards nervous around him. We were never out of their sight—they even escorted us to the communal bathroom.
I chewed, surveying the mutant staff with interest, alert to any sign of instability. Although vicious, I’d seen no sign of the madness that had consumed Dillon. At first, I had assumed the virus hadn’t enough time to drive them mad. It had taken Dillon five months to lose it, and they’d likely improved the antiviral since then. But now I had to wonder if they’d perfected it. If so, perhaps there was hope for us all.
In mid-meatloaf shovel, a soft touch made me stiffen. Instead of yielding to my craving and embracing her mental touch, I pulsed her a warning: a clear image of the cafeteria, complete with armed wulfleng guards.
I’m not alone. I hoped my words carried, but if she blasted me with sensation now, she would blow my cover.
I grasped first overwhelming relief at finding me alive and sane, followed by frustration with our audience. Instead of a flood of emotion, she sent a focused channel of support and love that provided me with a much-needed boost. Along with it came concern: Are you okay?
Just tired. But okay. Where are you?
Her touch wasn’t as strong as it had been from the plane, but steady. I caught an impression of rustic wooden walls—a cabin, surrounded by woods. Outside, a helicopter.
I think I’ve found you. We’ve moved close enough for me to establish contact.
My heart accelerated as she counted off the enforcers: Chris, Garrett, Jason, Matt, and the remaining six Manitoban enforcers, plus more from Ontario and Saskatchewan. Twenty-four altogether. If they were anything like Chris, an impressive strike force. But I thought of Dillon, and knew it wasn’t enough.
We’ve got more coming. Her words were as clear as if she stood before me. Was it because she was close or were we getting better at this?
>
I’m not ready. This is just a training facility, we need more. How long can they stay?
Both Canadian boards know about the mutant issue. They’ve given Jason permission to do whatever it takes to track down and resolve the problem. Not all board members are involved with this mutant thing, but we’re pretty sure some are. Jason thinks the eastern board may be compromised as well.
Do they know about me? Do they know where you are?
I sensed her gather herself and focus to send me the information I needed. They don’t know about you being inside. As far as the western board is concerned, you were last seen racing off in a rental car. The search for you continues in Winnipeg, but rumor is, courtesy of Jason, that you’ve left the city. They also know Jason is following up on a tip about mutant wulfleng, but he’s kept the details from them. How likely is it we’d be able to track this organization without you in the mix? They have no idea we’re so close. My heart pounded. Any gathering of the enforcers would be noticed, and if the board was compromised, my friends might be at risk. Be careful.
I sensed her snort with amusement. This isn’t our first rodeo, soldier.
She was right but rounding up stray wulfleng was a far cry from tackling these mutants. She caught my worry and sent a pulse of reassurance. Malcolm is bringing in five of his wulfan. They’ve tackled these guys before.
Malcolm would be a powerful asset to the team, offering some much-needed experience.
Your boys—did they make it through the moon?
Yes. Every one.
We’ll have to watch for them, when the time comes.
I realized that Danny and Nate were sending me curious glances, and that I hadn’t taken a bite of my meatloaf for the last few minutes. I smiled at them and stabbed a good-sized chunk. Danny twitched a brow at me but looked away. Nate turned back to his food, but I sensed his focus remained on me. Chewing, I glanced at the two wulfleng by the door. One gazed at the ceiling, looking bored, the other tapped on his phone, attention occupied by the tiny screen.
Sam caught my concern. I’d better go. We’ve got to set up camp. The cabin is too small for everybody. But thank God we’re close enough for contact. I’ve been worried. She stopped talking and sent a small pulse of emotional energy, causing an electric tingle through my entire body and I almost choked on my meatloaf. Danny frowned at me. Sending him another smile, I took a drink of water before responding to Sam with a burst of longing.
I wished this were over. I wished I didn’t have this damned mutant virus. I wished that she and I would live forever together, all our wulf-long lives.
We will. She faded away, off to set up camp for a large team of enforcers. A team that needed me to hit them a home run.
Too bad I’d never been any good at baseball.
20
It took us a week to get the changes under some semblance of control.
By that time, Keith was on the edge of losing it. Danny was the only one who worked with him. His friend’s wulf surfaced with every change and only reluctantly ceded to the human. Was this Keith’s way to commit suicide? To bury the human beneath the monster’s fury?
I’m sure Ace saw it too. But when he rounded us up one morning, he included Keith in the mix. I looked around me, to the remaining nine men of the fifteen recruited. How long did we have until they culled someone else?
They escorted us once more to the doctor for another shot and the implantation of a tracker. I remained calm while the man inserted the huge needle, wondering if he would remark on the jagged scar already present in the muscle running from my neck to my shoulder. But he just pushed the plunger and planted it only an inch from where I’d clawed out the other one.
While the senior staff, including the doctor, were wulfan, the thugs they used to control us all seemed to be wulfleng. How long had they been infected with the virus? Were they the lucky few to find a balance? Or were they ticking time bombs, like Dillon? We’d been here almost three weeks, and I tried to remember if the faces had changed.
Damn. I need to do a better job if we’re going to get out of this alive. The “we” echoed in my thoughts, and I realized it wasn’t just about me anymore.
They really were my guys, now.
Ace’s goons herded us onto the elevator and took us to see the sun. We stepped out of the tiny Red Wolf Air building, and I inhaled the scents of pine forest. The Black Hawk helicopter waited, its rotors spinning as it warmed up. When my eyes adjusted to the bright sunshine, I realized why Sam hadn’t been able to spot the aircraft from the satellite: camouflage netting covered the other three machines, disguising their distinctive silhouettes.
I sensed her interest as we stepped outside and she witnessed the world through my eyes. We’d had to be circumspect over the last week because the new sleeping arrangements were communal. I longed to have her with me, and my frustration with the minimal contact was mounting by the hour. There were now thirty-six enforcers camped in the bush, waiting for my signal to move in. Sam felt they were close enough to reach the training facility within a day on foot. But this wasn’t the real target, of that I was sure, so they waited. Patiently.
A huffed, feminine laugh within my head. Sort of. Some of these guys are not patient people. Jason has his hands full.
My snort earned me a glance from Danny. “Nice day,” he commented, glancing around.
“Just lovely,” Keith growled.
Nate sighed and sniffed the air. “I didn’t know the forest would smell like this.”
Reese glanced at Nate and shook his head, his mouth quirking, but his eyes were everywhere. I doubt he missed much. Lucas remained silent and wary while his cousin sniffed and spun around on one heel, arms out as if to embrace the wind. Would he start to sing? With Travis, you never knew.
My gaze returned to the waiting helicopter. Where was Ace taking us? Looks like we’re leaving Kansas.
I caught an image of my friends’ small helicopter, rotors in motion. We’ve got the bird warmed up. I won’t lose you again.
Accompanied by the big wulfan and six of his burly wulfleng, we boarded the helicopter and lifted off. Confined once again in a windowless space, I closed my eyes and tried to sense the dip and sway of the machine, and from that, which direction it headed. North, I thought, deeper into the forest and farther from Sam.
I opened my eyes to find Ace staring at me. I stared back. He looked away before he had to blink, transferring his gaze to Danny, who sat beside me. Danny stiffened as Ace’s glare bored into him. Nate took up significant real estate on my other side. I sensed the tension in his big body, and all I could do was radiate a calm energy to the world at large.
I closed my eyes again, feigning sleep, but we were in the air for twenty minutes when the rotors’ sound changed. The helicopter was landing.
Short trip, I sent.
Didn’t need the chopper, she said. We’re good.
I smelled the water as soon as the door opened. The Black Hawk rested on rocky ground, and the size of the landing pad made me wonder if they’d cleared it for something even bigger. One hundred feet from us the lake lapped at the shore. I glanced into the trees. As they swayed in the breeze, daylight sparkled through them. Something interrupted the bush not too far in.
We had a reception party of one. A dark-skinned wulfan as wide as he stood tall waited at the edge of the clearing, on a rise of land.
Ace marched us uphill. The helicopter took off again the moment we stepped away. As the sound of its rotors faded, I made out other sounds—the distinctive grunting, bashing, and crashing of bodies hitting wood and metal. Somewhere over the hill, men were obstacle training. Snarling noises amended the impression—not men, wulves.
I watched Ace approach the broad stranger and noticed the subtle signs in his body language that made me regard the new wulfan with more interest. Whoever he was, he seemed higher on the pay scale than Ace.
I wasn’t close enough to catch their words, but the stranger’s black eyes pierced me with an
intense stare. Hmm. So I’d made the news. Was this who lived on the other end of the cameras? I spotted two more cameras mounted in the trees.
Someone’s watching him. He’s just another minion. Sam’s two cents’ worth, but I agreed.
The wulfan waited for us to gather round him before he spoke. “My name is Bradford, and I run this joint. Everything that happens here goes through me.”
I stared at him. The man had a distinctive southern accent. Texas? Malcolm thought the wulfan down there were up to their necks in this mess.
Bradford continued. “Ace will guide you through your training here. This is the final step before you become an operative, and you’ll be spending the next few weeks with us.” He nodded to Ace and turned to walk away.
Weeks. I didn’t have weeks. I sensed Sam’s dismay at the news.
Ace led us uphill into the forest. We topped the rise and looked down on the camp beyond—there were wulfleng everywhere. Most in wulf form, negotiating obstacles under the watchful eye of other wulfleng overseers. They possessed the distinctive form of the mutant: huge, broad shouldered, and rippling with muscle, their teeth and claws much longer than that of a wulfan.
Lucas said something that sounded like a curse.
“Yeah,” Travis said. “Looks tiring.”
“Looks military,” commented Reese, his voice low. He glanced at me from under lowered eyelids.
He’s guessed they’re making soldiers. I gave him a short nod as Ace took us on a tour of the training course. Those mutants we passed smelled like wulfleng, but without the rankness I’d associated with Dillon. How long had these men been infected? Were they still at risk of going mad or had the organization formulated an antiviral that worked? Dillon and the Brandon wulfleng, and the ones going mad down in Texas, were they the early prototypes?
A crapload of questions and not enough answers. I needed to find them if all this was to be worth it.
How many? Sam asked.
