None appear to be expecting me and show surprise when I step from the vehicle.
Probably should have called ahead.
When I move round the car to open the rear door, the rifles aim toward the gap. I even hear the sharp click of two safety catches being released.
“Steady, guys, it’s just one guy and he’s a friend.”
One of the four lifts the visor on his helmet. I don’t know this guy, but I do recognize the grim boredom and latent anger of a Gamma team grunt.
“Why isn’t he restrained?”
“He is. By his word.”
Snorts and incredulous grunts issue from the gathered agents.
I hate this.
“Fine. Wendy, lace your hands behind your head, please. Take a knee.”
He does so without complaint, though I can see the anger burning in his eyes. Makes me wonder if such rage is on my behalf or his.
The agents exchange bemused glances.
I cut across the lot of them. “I need to get to holding. This werewolf will be staying here while I and my team investigate a case.”
“Credentials?”
I lift the lanyard off my hip and hold it up.
A second of the four agents pulls a little handheld scanner from his pocket and runs the red light it emits over the face of my ID.
“Karson, Danika,” says a mechanical voice. “A20240119K06.”
“Hmm,” mutters the agent. “So you’re Karson. Thought you’d be taller.”
At five-eleven I’m not sure what he wants from me, but I let the comment slide and point to the security door leading deeper into the holding complex.
“Can we get on with this? I have things to do.”
“Sure, whatever. Remember to sign out when you leave.” The four agents step outward to allow me and Wendy through.
Chapter Nine
So many cells.
After going through more security, more checkpoints, and multiple scans of my ID, we’ve finally reached the cell area.
It’s a high ceilinged space with recessed lights, dozens upon dozens of outlets for fire safety, and a double line of open and private cells.
Many are already occupied, a couple of vampires, a werewolf or two, three brownies, one gargoyle, a gaggle of pixies, and a troll.
None pay especial attention to us, but the figure in front of the large panel of buttons and switches hops down from his stool as we approach.
“Karson,” he snaps.
“Shakka. How are you liking the new placement?”
“Just fine until you showed up. I thought coming out here would be enough to get me away from you.”
“Is that any way to speak to an old friend?”
“Stick your head in a dung heap, Karson.”
Behind me, Wendy hides a chuckle behind his hand. “Do you have that effect on everyone you know?”
“Most of them.”
Shakka’s beady little eyes narrow even further. Despite his diminutive height, he can glare as well as anyone else. And somehow, with his warty skin, scarred crooked nose, and mangled ears, the sight is more gruesome than usual.
“Wensleydale?”
“Shakka.”
The pair of them study each other for long seconds. Not tense or aggressive. Curious.
Shakka breaks first. “So…are you a set-up too?”
I arch an eyebrow.
He shrugs. “I got two wolves in there, one from Dire and the other from Grey Tail. Both insist they were set up. Seems to be going around.”
Wendy fixes me with a steady, meaningful stare.
“Okay, okay, I get it. Someone is after you. Let’s get you inside, turn down your linen, and fluff your pillows so I can get on with it, huh?”
It’s true, I do need to do this quickly, but I know full well that’s not what Wendy was trying to say with such an intense look.
With one of his own pack held down here, we’re both going to have to be careful about how we speak to each other from now on. Especially me. If I give away that Wendy has pledged himself to me, he’ll be in still worse trouble than he is right now. And that won’t be the sort of trouble I can help him with.
Shakka climbs back onto his stool to reach the panel of buttons that operates the doors and other cell features. He twists a dial, flips a switch, and the doors to the cell beside one of the wolves silently swings open.
I guide Wendy through the last checkpoint—a reinforced steel door with bars as thick as my wrists—and into the holding area.
Like Shakka’s last holding position, this area is designed for all manner of edane creatures. Some cells have manacles and chains, others have comfortable beds and sinks. There are even some with bars set into the walls and ceiling so smaller creatures can roost off the ground if they wish.
The cell containing all the pixies has exactly that set-up, with many of the small creatures sleeping with their heads lolling and their wings tucked close to their backs. One or two are awake and dart at the main bars as we approach, but the electric current running through them sends them to the rear of the cell in a hurry.
The cells holding vampires aren’t barred like the others, but enclosed with four walls and a proper door. A viewing slot affords the curious a glance inside, but the main difference is on the inside. Sound- and light-proofed but for an emergency hatch in the upper right corner of each. Though shut off right now, the hatches are light traps which, in extreme situations, will allow sunlight to filter down and fill the room.
We’ve never had to use them. Yet.
The werewolf cells are opposite, back to bars, though as well as the electric current, these are also constructed with silver in the make-up of the metal. Harmless to humans but uncomfortable to werewolves. Just another way to keep them calm and docile. Well…that and the drugs they often get filled with.
Wendy stops in front of the first of the two locked cells.
The wolf inside leaps up on spotting him, rushing as close to the bars as safety allows before dropping to his knees. He lowers his head far enough to fully expose the back of his dirty, skinny neck and rests both hands, palm flat on the floor.
“I’m sorry,” he begins, “I tried to be careful, I tried—”
“Okay, cub, calm down.” A soft growl from Wendy. “What happened? What are the charges? How long have you been here?”
“Unlawful lupine infection. Endangering humans. They brought me in two days ago and I haven’t been able to call out.”
My stomach knots, a mix of anger and confusion. “You should have been allowed a phone call.”
The werewolf shrugs. “I didn’t get one. I asked, but got nowhere.”
A low chuckle comes from the neighbouring cell. This belongs to a woman with floppy blue hair, shaved bald on one side. In place of the hair there, she sports a huge tribal tattoo in shades of black and grey. “Neither of us did. We ain’t got nothing like that. You SPEARs disgust me.”
“I’m sorry. You should have been allowed to make a call.”
Though she doesn’t move, the wolf turns her nose toward me and inhales long and deep. “Hmm. Interesting.”
“I won’t lie to you. What’s the point?”
“Nothing, but it doesn’t stop the rest of you from lying.” Yes, this wolf is definitely from the lie-detecting Grey Tail pack. She continues. “But at least you ain’t. Counts for something, I suppose.”
The first man lifts his head a tiny amount. “Wensleydale, please, get me out of here. I’m going crazy. I know it’s only been two days, but my blood—my head—I can feel the moon.”
Wendy extends his hand as if to reach through the bars.
“Stop.”
I don’t mean to make it an order. I certainly don’t mean to yell, but both of the captured werewolves now watch me, sharing their gaze between me and Wendy’s hand, frozen on its way to the bars.
Wendy clears his throat. “You dare—”
“Sorry.” I lift my own hands, playing the part of startled human as best
I can. “I just meant that the bars would shock you. Even from this side. You don’t want that, right?”
“I can look after myself.”
I open my mouth. Close it. How do I do this? How can I get him to just step into the cell and shut up until I leave?
I’m saved from figuring it out by the sound of the cell block doors opening. Through them limps Maury, breathing heavily, but otherwise just as I left him not long before.
“What are you doing here?”
He gives a wry smile. “Backup is always good, Agent. Even for the simplest of missions.”
Great. Now I have to watch his mouth as well as mine.
“Well, our detainee was just about to get into his cell and I was about to leave. Right, Wendy?”
He gives me a level look. It lasts almost long enough to be uncomfortable before he sighs and faces the open door to the next empty cell.
“You fix this,” he mutters. “I mean it.”
“Of course.”
“You’d better, meat sack.” He steps into the space beyond.
I step in to shut the door behind him.
Maury clears his throat. “Aren’t you forgetting something? It’s pre-moon. This wolf and all the others need a sedation shot.”
Oh. Balls.
“Maury—”
He holds up a small jet injector, already loaded with clear fluid. “This close to the full moon we need these guys dosed up.”
The woman in her cell yawns and returns to the drop-down shelf that serves as a bed. She flops onto it with her hands folded across her stomach and glares at the ceiling. “Sedation shot. Like a fucking animal. Bloody humans…”
The Dire Wolf prisoner looks at Wendy. “Do I have to?”
Wendy hesitates.
Maury doesn’t. “It’s that or we move you to a more secure location. I don’t mind, but given the amount of paperwork required to move you out of the city, it’s not easy to get back once we ship you out.”
“It’s okay, cub.” Wendy once again reaches toward the cell bars, but stops short of touching them. “I’ll protect you.”
Such simple words, but the effect is immediate. The man in his cell beams, bright and sunny, and leaps back to his feet. Where before he had been bowed, drawn in, and unsure, now he stands tall and firm, bright eyed, and confident. He even rolls up his sleeve and holds his arm out.
“Do it,” he murmurs.
* * *
I find my fingers twitching into fists.
I know this is protocol. Of course I know, but…it still makes me uneasy.
Wendy is the alpha. He needs to be compos mentis and in full charge of his faculties, physical and mental. The sedation shot does exactly what it says and slows all that stuff down. If anything were to happen to him…plus he’s shackled by his pledge to me.
This all stinks. And there’s nothing I can do.
Maury waves a hand toward Shakka behind the protective glass. The goblin flicks a couple of switches on his panel, and the low, latent hum of electricity in the air fades by a fraction. The vague charge in the air eases, and the doors to the young Dire Wolf’s cell clicks open.
“Agent, cover if you please.” He gestures to the gun holstered on his hip.
This is bullshit. All of it.
I spend enough time around testosterone to recognize a power play when I see one, but what can I do? Maury knows full well that Wendy will give his life for mine right now, meaning I have nothing to fear from either of the captured Dire Wolves. He also knows that in this space, surrounded by other agents, the likelihood of one of them making a successful getaway is slim to none.
So why? Why ask for cover?
I pull the gun from his holster with a savage glare.
Because it’s another way to assert his control and dominance over the situation. To make clear to them, and me, that he is the one in charge.
Arsehole.
I steady the gun in the younger wolf’s direction and wave Wendy into the line of fire.
“Go on then.” I make my voice low and steady. “Get yourselves into position.”
Wendy snarls, his upper lip curling back to expose slowly lengthening teeth.
I unlatch the safety mechanism on the gun. “Give it a rest, puppy.”
A moment of silence. Then Wendy positions himself in my sight line, with his hands slightly raised.
Smirking, Maury saunters in with the jet injector and presses the nozzle to the first wolf’s forearm. “Sweet dreams.”
The wolf shudders as the sedative fluid enters his bloodstream, blinks, them stumbles toward the back of the cell. He slumps into the corner, not unconscious, but certainly useless for the next few hours.
That must have been a strong dose.
Another wave to Shakka to restore this door and then again to decharge those to the female’s cell.
She doesn’t bother getting up, simply thrusts her arm out for the shot. As she is dosed up, her body ripples with an almost liquid shudder before becoming limp and floppy. Her haughty look remains though, even as her jaw slightly slackens and her toes flop outward.
Maury, apparently enjoying himself, chuckles as he closes the door to her cell.
“And now, Mr. Gordan, your turn.”
Wendy sniffs. He doesn’t look at me exactly, but I know he’s weighing his options. Unfortunately, this is the only viable one he has.
Calm and unhurried, he lowers the drop-down bed and sits on the end of it. One by one, he peels off layers of clothing including his longer outer coat, two thinner jackets, a jumper, and one tatty shirt. Still frowning, he folds each item and lays them out in a neat line at the back of his cell.
“This isn’t the army, wolf, you aren’t about to be inspected.” Maury ejects the empty drug canister from the jet injector and inserts another. Something looks strange about it, but before I can question the sight, he’s already inside the cell, aiming the nozzle at Wendy’s exposed forearm.
“Let’s get on with this, shall we? I have places to be.”
Wendy sniffs again, his nose now directed at the jet injector pressed to his arm.
“Wait.” I can’t help it. I can’t let him do this. Not with so much happening, not with new packs and odd powers running amok. Wendy needs to be at full strength.
I find myself crossing the small space and yanking the jet injector out of Maury’s hand.
He lets me take it, but only to add, “This is pointless, Karson.” His voice roughens. “Protocol dictates—”
“I know, I know, but…this isn’t right. Doesn’t it feel…not right to you?”
“No.”
“Come on, Maury. Something weird is happening out there, we should be asking these guys for help, not locking them up and dialling their wits down to one.”
He gives a lazy shrug. “I do what needs to be done. As should you. Now give him the shot.”
“I…I can’t.”
My voice wobbles a little. Still worse is the knowing look of smug triumph as Maury extends his hand for the injector.
“Then I’ll do it. Regardless, it must be done before either of us leave. This close to the full moon we take no chances. A fact you know full well.”
“Girl?” Wendy looks up from his study of his bare forearm. It’s possible that weeks have passed since he last saw his own naked skin beyond that on his hands. “Just get it over with, will you?”
“But—”
“No, meat sack. The longer you’re in here arguing, the longer it takes for you to get out there and figure out what’s happening. Give me the damn shot.”
“Wendy…”
“Give me the shot, girl.”
Again, infuriatingly, he’s right. I know he’s right. But I don’t have to like it.
I press the nozzle of the injector flush to his skin and hit the trigger.
Wait…what’s that?
With a yell, I pull up on the injector, but the dose has already gone, fired into Wendy’s body on a geyser of fluid under high pressure. I
t vanishes into his skin with no trace and the empty jet injector clatters to the floor at my feet.
“That wasn’t a sedation shot.” I whirl on Maury with my hands clenched into fists. “That wasn’t the same thing you gave the others. What was it?”
Maury nods approvingly. “I wasn’t sure if you’d notice. Guess you do have a keen eye.”
Wendy slumps in his seat. A line of drool dribbles from the side of his mouth.
“Damn it, Maury, what the hell did you put in that injector?”
Wendy drops further from a slouched, relaxed slump to full-on prone on his drop-down bed. He’s not dead or injured—far from it—but the slack, relaxed smile on his face is unlike anything I’ve ever seen before.
This isn’t a normal sedation shot.
Shit.
* * *
“Maury, what the hell? Talk to me.”
His nodding gives way to a smug smile. “It is a sedation shot, like the others, just stronger. It contains a new silver compound the brains at Clear Blood have been working on. Test subjects were shown to be calm, docile, and infinitely more manageable for longer periods of time following a single shot.”
“But if it was a test drug you need written permission from—”
“Not for this, Agent. I’m fully authorized to use this. And, I must say it seems to be working exceptionally well.”
I could punch Maury. Right in the damn nose.
Instead I grit my teeth, flex my clench fingers, and stomp out of the cell. Seconds later, the low hum of electricity picks up again as all three wolves are trapped inside.
My fingers are itching. I want to grab something, squeeze it, punch it, kick it. Instead I stalk back up the steps that lead to the viewing room where Shakka waits with his buttons and dials.
He looks at me but says nothing, simply returning to his stool to watch.
A few moments later, Maury joins me.
“I had to,” he murmurs.
“No, you didn’t.”
“Of course I did. I was reading up on him after you told me his name. Wensleydale Gordan. Do you have any idea of his record? His powers?”
I raise my hands skyward. “Of course I do.”
Moon Fever Page 8
