Thrown to the Wolves (Big Bad Wolf)

by Adhara, Charlie

  “No. I need to... We need to do this now. If what—If the tip is good, Dr. Freeman and Girard could be running out of time.”

  True. But Park still wasn’t looking directly at Cooper, and he had a suspicion that this sudden urgency to finish the case they’d never really been on in the first place had more to do with distracting them both from what had just happened than anything else.

  Well, he had asked what he could do to help and this was what Park had chosen. “All right,” Cooper said cautiously. “But in case this goes badly, I’m not carrying and we both know realistically I won’t be much help in a fight against, well, any wolf in this town, honestly. Can we at least go in with some backup?”

  Park agreed, though he buzzed with impatience. “I’ll call Eli. You update the BSI on the situation and where to meet us.” His eyes were still glowing fully gold, and there was an unfamiliar intensity in his face that sharpened his features. It was like now that he knew he was finally going to join the fight, the trained terror of the northeast had awoken.

  This was what wolves saw when they saw the Shepherd, Cooper thought, and shivered.

  He pulled out his own phone. “And where should I tell them one goes to confront a rival alpha and prevent a pack war?”

  Park smiled darkly. “This little piggy’s going to market.”

  * * *

  The bells announced their arrival to what appeared to be an empty store. No customers. No one at the counter. But the coffee still gurgled on its hot plate and Dusty Springfield’s imploring voice echoed just a little too loudly around the room.

  You don’t have to stay forever, I will understand. Believe me, believe me...

  “Sylvia,” Park called. He walked deeper into the market, scanning the aisles, his big body as graceful and restless as a predator in a cage. Cooper and Eli followed at a distance. “Geoff!”

  “I don’t hear anyone,” Eli murmured.

  “It looks like she left suddenly,” Cooper said. “Is it possible she was...warned?”

  Is it possible she has an accomplice inside the other camp? he thought.

  He couldn’t help but think of the faint smell of cigarettes in Sylvia’s hair.

  Park frowned but didn’t answer. “We might as well look around,” he said. “The market connects to the warehouse, and there’s an office in the back. If she did pull a runner, we should know by the state of her safe.”

  “How do you know where the safe is?”

  “Tax collecting season. It’s the most won-der-ful time of the year,” Eli sang to the tune of an old Christmas song. He seemed awfully cheerful for someone who had discovered a body before breakfast and been co-opted into a spur-of-the-moment confrontation slash rescue mission before lunch. But at least someone was happy.

  “What do you mean, tax collecting?” Cooper asked.

  “All businesses run by wolves under the pack’s control owe them an annual operating fee,” Park said.

  Cooper’s eyebrows shot up. “Is that...in addition to rent?”

  Park glanced at him, surprised. “Yes. Most of the tax goes into the emergency fund, though.”

  “Emergency?”

  Park hesitated, then said, “Keeping a secret this big has serious running costs. Bribes for humans getting too close, land purchases kept undeveloped for runs, bail money for wolves who end up in jails where they can’t shift, et cetera.”

  Cooper absorbed that. He hadn’t thought much about what went into keeping werewolves out of the news. Now he couldn’t seem to stop thinking about it.

  The same weakness every wolf has.

  The Parks had immediately dismissed calling for help when Joe was murdered because they had no one to call. Eli’s old pack had suffered blackmail and who knew what else until the Parks had sent Oliver to buy their freedom. The BSI hadn’t gotten involved in this case until it was a human who had died and a pack war threatened even more human lives. No wonder the antiquated system of pack control flourished. The wolves had no one to turn to when they were in trouble and couldn’t rely on the police without endangering their secret. It left a dissatisfied feeling in Cooper’s throat.

  Park led them to the back and through the door where Cooper had first seen Agen—Daisy slip through a lifetime ago.

  The market’s warehouse storage was huge, dark and crowded. Wood pallets stocked with towering dried goods wrapped in saran wrap filled the space, creating a maze of food, like a grocery store’s more twisted evil twin. The space hummed with the motors of a dozen fridges.

  “Sylvia?” Park called again. “Geoff?”

  From somewhere deep within the warehouse came a faint thud. The three of them froze and looked at each other.

  “Direction?” Park asked quietly. Eli nodded to the far back right.

  They made their way through the maze of bright cardboard packaging. At each sharp corner, Park and Eli would pause and inhale deeply. At one of these junctures, as they neared the back of the room, they both looked at each other with concern.

  “What is it?” Cooper whispered.

  Eli grimaced. “Blood.”

  “We just want to talk!” Park called again.

  Another thud sounded. Much closer this time. And then again and again.

  They turned one last corner and the maze opened into the very back of the warehouse. There was a closed door to the left and the wall was lined with chest fridges. The sort that opened on top and were found in the basements of vacation homes for impromptu popsicles or the garages of serial killers for out-of-the-way people meat.

  Thud, thud. The sound was coming from one of these fridges. The one with the heavy-looking crate on top of it and a rubber tube hanging out the side. Cooper doubted there were popsicles inside.

  He hurried forward and touched the fridge’s side. It was warm and still. Unplugged for a while. When the thudding came again, he felt it in his palm. “Help me get this off.”

  Park and Eli both hauled the crate off and the top of the fridge burst open. A gasping Dr. Emily Freeman jumped out.

  “Please, please,” she cried, falling into Cooper’s arms. He grabbed her, lifting her out of the fridge. Her skin was slightly cool, but not dangerously so. She was drenched in sweat and a trickle of blood was oozing out of a cut on her forehead.

  “Okay. You’re okay,” Cooper said as reassuringly as possible, holding up the majority of her weight. He looked wide-eyed over Dr. Freeman’s head to Park, who appeared almost as shaken as she was. Cooper realized that until that moment Park hadn’t really believed the Rosetti pack, whom he must have known most of his life, could have done this. Eli had backed up, face hidden in the shadows of the goods maze. Cooper hoped he wasn’t going to pull another runner.

  “Please help me, please help me.” Dr. Freeman was dangerously close to hyperventilating. Cooper could feel her spit and tears already soaking through his shirtfront.

  “You’re safe now,” he said, trying to support her without holding her too tightly or restrictively. Ambulance, he mouthed at Park, who nodded and checked his phone with a frown.

  “There’s a landline in the office,” he said, and hurried off to the closed door. It was locked and Park had to kick it forcefully in, each slam making Dr. Freeman jump in Cooper’s arms.

  “Shh shhh,” Cooper tried to soothe. “That’s just my partner getting you some help. Nothing to be afraid of.”

  After three attempts, there was a loud cracking sound and the door flew in. Both wolves made sounds of shock and disgust. Eli even had to turn around, putting his hands on a tower of stock as if unbalanced, and dry heave a couple of times.

  Cooper bit his tongue, not wanting to alarm Dr. Freeman. He gently pulled her farther away from the door. Park covered his mouth and nose with his hand and stumbled into the office and out of sight. And then came right back out.

  “Who?” Eli said urgently. “Who
is it, Ollie?”

  Park was pale and visibly shaken. “Geoff. He’s dead. More tranquilizer darts.”

  “But the blood?”

  Park looked at the still-crying and oblivious Dr. Freeman. “Someone...pulled out his teeth.”

  “What the fuck,” Eli whispered. “What the actual fuck.”

  “The phone line’s been pulled,” Park continued briskly. “I’m going to try back up front. Watch them,” he ordered Eli, and ran back into the darkness of the maze.

  Cooper looked at Eli, who stared back at him, face utterly blank. The way it had been when he was lost in those painful memories of the past. His irises had expanded, blocking out the whites, pale gray glowing even more transparent. In this light the result was neither human nor animalistic, but pure ghoul.

  “Okay, it’s okay,” Cooper repeated, wishing he believed it himself. Dr. Freeman seemed to calm down a little. “Can you tell me what happened?”

  “I—I don’t know. We were attacked. I woke up in—in the dark,” she sobbed. “In a—In a coffin. B-buried alive.” She dug her nails into his back and Cooper made what he hoped was a soothing sound.

  “What about Girard? Do you know what happened to him?”

  Dr. Freeman tensed in his arms. “You—haven’t found Charles?”

  “No, not yet. But we’re still looking. I know this is hard, but do you have any idea who attacked you?”

  Too late. Dr. Freeman had started crying again and seemed to have reached her limit of answering questions. Cooper looked to Eli and jerked his head at the fridges. Check them, he mouthed.

  After a moment’s stillness, Eli nodded. He started systematically going through the others, opening and closing each fridge as quietly as possible so as not to startle Dr. Freeman. Cooper let the crying continue uninterrupted for a bit before quietly asking, “Can I check you for injuries?”

  She dug her nails into him again but nodded. Cooper eased her back a bit to examine the wound on her head first. It was much more superficial than it had first looked. It was right in the middle of her forehead, between her eyebrows, which seemed an unusual place to hit someone. It was unlikely that a shallow blow like that at the thickest part of the skull would have knocked her out. She didn’t have any restraint marks on her wrists or other injuries that Cooper could see.

  “Any pain?”

  Dr. Freeman shook her head.

  “Do you know if you were drugged?”

  She frowned. “Drugged?”

  “Shot with a tranquilizer?”

  “Is that what was used? I don’t remember—”

  One of the fridge doors suddenly slammed shut and Dr. Freeman jumped, yelping, and fell back into Cooper’s arms. “It’s okay. Okay.” Jesus, Eli.

  Cooper tried to turn slowly without jolting Dr. Freeman to glare at him, only to find that Eli was an unmoving lump on the cement floor.

  And Sylvia Rosetti stood over him.

  There was a moment no one moved. They just stared at each other. Sylvia looked from Cooper’s face to the sobbing woman to the fridge and back again.

  “You son of a bitch,” she said softly, taking a step toward them. “You killed Geoff.”

  Cooper shook his head. “No, wait.”

  As Dr. Freeman spun around, gasping, “You! She killed David! I remember now! She attacked me and killed him!”

  “I’ve never even seen this lying little shit in my life. You murdered Geoff and now you’re all setting me up!” she snarled. “I know all about you and your sick videos. Goddamn BSI. Well, you’re not going to pin this on me.”

  She took another step closer, and her teeth lengthened into fangs. Dr. Freeman gasped.

  Cooper snatched up Freeman’s hand and yanked her back toward the maze. “Oliver!” he screamed, as loud as he could.

  Freeman stumbled, like her legs couldn’t support her, and she was moving way too slowly. Cooper didn’t stop to think. He just grabbed her around the waist, lifted her over his shoulder and kept running. His leg felt weak and especially clumsy in the brace and he kept tripping every five steps, but still he ran. There was no other choice. He couldn’t hear any sign of Park. Where the hell was he?

  “Oliver!” he yelled over the screaming Freeman clinging to his back.

  He had no idea which way Sylvia had come from or how long she’d been watching them, waiting until they were separated and distracted. He couldn’t stop from picturing Park on the floor of the market, clutching a phone, a pool of blood spreading around him across the linoleum. Cooper’s heart collapsed on itself and his vision blacked out for a second.

  If he’s dead, so are you. In every way that matters.

  “Oliver, please,” he choked out. Don’t you fucking dare be gone or I’ll kill you myself. He couldn’t remember exactly which way to go. Left at the cookies? Right at the pasta boxes?

  “Killer!” Sylvia was yelling from not far behind. “Monster!”

  Cooper stopped hesitating at the turns. Just go, just go. Freeman was as light as she looked but awkward to hold, and together they kept slamming into the stock walls. When the screaming abruptly stopped, he worried he’d knocked her unconscious on some soup cans, but when he looked over his shoulder, he realized what had stolen Freeman’s voice.

  A large wolflike creature with a grotesquely flattened face was rounding the corner, emerging from the shadows and kicking off a pair of jeans. It shook out its silvery fur that seemed to grow from a light fuzz to a thick, full coat in front of his eyes. Blue hair clip-ins went whizzing across the cement floor.

  “Beautiful,” Freeman murmured. For the first time that day she sounded calm, even joyous.

  Sylvia pointed her snout to the warehouse ceiling and howled.

  Cooper shifted Dr. Freeman into a more stable position, closer to his neck, and booked it. Not paying attention to which way he was going anymore, he was only thinking, Run. Run. Put as much distance in between you and Sylvia as possible.

  “Cooper!” From somewhere behind the walls and walls of stock he heard Park yelling his name.

  Cooper felt tears in his eyes at the sound of Park’s voice. Alive! Alive! He tried to call back, but he was so out of breath his throat just clicked. He turned to what should have been the door back into the market...

  ...only to see a dead end of cereal boxes. Grinning animated faces of rabbits, elves and tigers all peeking at him from beneath saran wrap. You’rrrrrrreeee fucked.

  He heard the click of claws on cement and knew what he’d see before he even turned around. Sure enough, there, blocking the entrance (and exit) to his corner, was a huge silver wolf.

  “Up. Climb. Quickly.”

  Cooper boosted Freeman. The adrenaline that had kept his leg going so far was just not cutting it now. The muscles of his right thigh trembled and he had lost feeling below his knee. He had to put most of his weight on his left leg, and the unsteadiness made Emily clutch and scratch at his head as she used him as a stepladder. Standing on his shoulders, she was just able to pull herself to the top of the stock with his help.

  “Go! I’ll hold her off as long as possible.”

  Dr. Freeman didn’t waste time with long goodbyes. She disappeared, jumping down the other side of the boxes. He could hear her land with a whimper and immediately run away. Well, that was one life off his conscience.

  He looked back at the slowly approaching wolf. “Don’t make things worse for yourself than they are,” he said as steadily as possible.

  Sylvia lowered her head, her shoulders raised, and her legs bent into a semi-crouch. There was nothing human about it. No snort or eye roll to interpret like, Worse for me? Worry about yourself. There was no pause of consideration or twitch of the brow to signify regret or that she’d understood what he said at all. In that moment, she was pure animal closing in on a kill.

  Cooper held up his hands at belly level
and felt his knees squeezing together. Absolutely useless, but he couldn’t help it. It was just some deep instinct to put something, anything, between his softest bits and the deadly fangs and claws stalking toward him.

  “Please,” Cooper said, voice cracking. “Please.”

  He hoped Oliver would be okay. He hoped he knew Cooper didn’t think he was a bad person who’d done horrible things. He never had. Never could.

  A howl rang through the warehouse. It came from above. From on top of the boxes, a huge, dark shape lunged for Sylvia.

  It was another wolf. Big with dark fur. Those were the only things Cooper could tell for sure before the two wolves slammed into a wall of stock that shook with the force of the impact. They wrestled in the wreckage, swiping and snapping at each other. A stray claw sliced through the plastic restraints around one box, and dozens of jars of olives started tumbling to the floor. Some rolled harmlessly, others shattered on the cement. The smell of salty vinegar permeated the air.

  Get out of here. Climb over the wall while they’re distracted. But Cooper could only watch.

  It was clear that the big, dark wolf had a strength, speed and skill advantage over Sylvia, but she had the blood of her friend, her protégé, her family filling her nose and fought with the killing rage to prove it. They tussled back and forth, up and down until eventually the dark wolf managed to get his jaw around the back of her neck and tugged her sharply to the floor. He dragged her away from Cooper while she snarled and clawed at him, far from submitting, but helpless in his iron hold.

  And then everything went to shit again. Cooper could see the disaster coming just before it happened, but his shouted warning came too late and the dark wolf unsuspectingly stepped backward on the upturned remains of a jagged olive jar. He yelped—knees buckling from the blinding pain of glass slicing through the thin fleshy web between his toes—and Sylvia slipped out of his loosened grip.

  She leapt on the dark wolf, tumbling them both, and his body came down hard on another mess of broken glass. He screeched this time, twisting instinctively away and straight up into Sylvia’s snapping jaws.