I yank free of Jadz’s grip and, after one last glare, climb back into the car. Glass litters the seat, and in the headrest, a small, smoking hole shows the entry of a rifle bullet. I shove the worst of the glass into the foot well and sit.
“Fine, I get your worry, Spannah, but what about you? Why do you care what happens to the Dire Wolves?”
Jadz clips her own seat belt into place. For long seconds I wonder if she plans to answer me at all, then at last she lifts her gaze to mine. “I don’t. Not really, but I’m not too proud to say that Wensleydale is a strong and just alpha. From what I’ve heard of this Aleksandar character, I’d say we all have something to worry about if he ends up leading a pack with that much of a reputation and prestige. He needs to be stopped.”
The car rumbles beneath me, easing off again and rapidly gaining speed.
“You mean that, Jadz?”
“I don’t lie.”
I believe her.
A breeze whips through the broken window, stinging my eyes, dragging my hair back. As we travel away from West Side and closer to Misona, at last I begin to hear what my companions clearly heard some time ago.
Howls, growls, and shouts. Battle. A dominance battle.
* * *
We can’t get the car much further once we reach the outskirts of Misona. The crowds are simply too thick.
From the startled looks in the eyes of both Jadz and Spannah, it seems that more than Dire Wolves have turned out to see this fight. I recognize a few faces from other packs, even as, more than once Jadz turns up her nose at others.
When the press is too thick to drive any further, all four of us exit the car and begin the walk.
Most of the sounds I hear now are those from the crowds. There’s almost a carnival atmosphere to the streets, though it is clearly a carnival tangled with fear and danger. There is no fighting here, the occasional scuffle perhaps, but nothing serious or dangerous. Most of the sparring taking place on the streets seems to be for a joke, or to emulate what is happening further on.
I hear more than one voice call out Aleksandar’s name and others calling Wendy. Money, booze, and cigarettes fly through the crowds like sweets. I can’t believe they’re betting on this. Don’t they understand?
Spannah takes the lead. Whatever sort of connection he has to Wendy it’s enough to pull us through the crowds. He moves slowly, but with purpose always with his gaze fully forward. I follow with Noel close behind and Jadz bringing up the rear. It’s probably unnecessary, but I feel safer with a werewolf ally at our backs. Noel seems to feel the same way because his hand rests on the hilt of the hunting dagger on his hip. The buckle is fastened, but I know how quickly he can release that pop-stud should the need arise.
We’ve been walking two minutes before I recognize the burned out husk of my old car. The battered vehicle is blackened and scorched with no glass left in any of the windows. The huge dents from the previous fight have been partially knocked out but clumsily so, leaving uneven surfaces across the roof and bonnet.
A couple writhe together on the back seat, apparently uncaring of the charred exterior. Their embrace is hard and fierce, almost feral, and their happy growls join the surrounding cacophony.
Noel taps my shoulder. “This isn’t right.”
“You’re telling me.”
“No fight should take this long. If the younger one was right, then why hasn’t this crowd dispersed?”
I shrug. It’s all I can do. I mean, I have a couple of thoughts, but each one seems crazier than the previous, and the last thing I want to do is give the universe ideas in how to screw me over.
We’re near the children’s play area now, the space in which I usually meet Wendy when we have intelligence to share. As ever, the climbing frame is rusted and broken, the swings bare and skeletal. The slide holds a small cluster of wolves who watch as we approach. They turn and whisper among themselves but make no move toward us.
Spannah gives a sudden cry and leaps forward. “Wensleydale.” His charge meets a rude stop as three other wolves step across his path, but that doesn’t stop him clawing, kicking, and biting at those in his way. “Wensleydale, can you hear me? It’s Jim. It’s Spannah. Wensleydale?”
So that’s his real name.
I risk a few more steps forward, then stop of my own accord when it becomes clear that pushing further would do more harm than good. But at least I can see now.
Aleksandar sits on top of a pile of rags, daintily chewing something red and thick from beneath his nails. The crest of his Mohawk is floppy now, hanging over one side of his face like a scarf. It’s matted with thick clots of blood and leaves faint smears against his neck and cheek each time he turns his head.
The rest of him appears unharmed but for the ragged remnants of his clothing. Clearly he has been through a partial shift and back again to do such damage to his clothes.
Seven more figures stand around him, most recognizable from the confrontation with Chalks. These must be his soldiers, and bodyguards. Great.
As he spies me, Aleksandar’s smile stretches wide and feral across his thin lips. “Agent Karson, welcome at last. Oh, and you brought friends.”
Spannah continues to struggle. “Stop it. Get off him. Get off him right now, you bastard.”
What the hell is he talking abo—“Oh, shit.”
The pile of rags Aleksandar is using as a throne…it isn’t rags. Or not all rags. Now, at last I can see the arm protruding from beneath them, the rough sole of one battered shoe. And there, at the back, right beneath Aleksandar’s rear I finally recognize Wendy’s face.
A marrow-freezing chill settles over me.
“Wendy?”
He twitches, but doesn’t speak.
“Wendy? For God’s sake, get up you mangy dog. You’re better than this.”
Aleksandar laughs and reaches down to slap Wendy’s backside on which his feet rest. “You’d like to think so, wouldn’t you? But here is proof of what I’ve said all along. This dog is weak. He’s less fit to lead us than that freak Petra, but at least she put up a fight.”
The crowd around us laughs. Noel gives a little moan. Jadz growls low under her breath and settles her weight to the balls of her feet.
Aleksandar ignores it all. He only has eyes for me. “We waited for you, Agent. I said you would come, and like a well-trained little pet, here you are.”
“Get off my friend.”
“In a moment. After all, I don’t want you to miss the show.” Aleksandar leans his weight forward a little. He even lowers his foot and grinds his heel into the back of Wendy’s hand. “I need you to understand something about the way it’s going to be from now on, Agent.”
Spannah gives a despairing howl. His nails begin to blacken and the hair across his head thickens and spreads down the back of his neck. The three wolves restraining him increase their efforts, eventually forcing him to the ground.
My chest feels ready to explode, such is the pounding of my heart. I can feel it in my head, in my ribs, hell, even in my teeth. The danger here is real enough to smell and taste, but a glance around me makes clear that there’s nothing I can do.
Yet.
“You see, Agent, now that I’m alpha of the Dire Wolves, I wanted to let you know firsthand. The exceptions made for you at the hands of the previous alpha no longer stand. You are no longer welcome in our territory and certainly no longer considered a pack-friend. As for that blood-sucking rat you call a girlfriend…well, if I ever see her here again, the next time you see her it will be in the matchbox I use to return her remains.”
I tilt my chin. “You are not the alpha of the Dire Wolves. The alpha of his pack is Wendy—Wensleydale Gordan—and you have no authority over me.”
I say the words with a strong clear voice, projecting past the wolves in my path.
Inside, my heart continues pounding at my ribs, but a single mantra repeats in my mind over and over: Get up Wendy. You have to get up. Get up, Wendy. Please get up.
The cluster of wolves growls and whispers, watching their leader for guidance.
Aleksandar smiles a long slow smile. “Oh, of course. Silly of me, I’m not alpha yet. There’s one thing I need to do to cement that. To make clear that I am the strongest, most powerful wolf of this pack. That I am the only one able to lead us.”
He stands.
Wendy gives a great gushing sigh, sucking in huge gulps of air. He flops to his side, still wheezing and, for the first time, I get a proper look at him. The pool of blood beneath his body is huge. Even with layers and layers of coat to soak it up, still I can see the red fluid dribbling away from his twisted, broken form. One leg is wrenched up behind him, awkward and painful. Clearly broken from the angle. Both arms are beneath him, one with a bruised, battered hand, the other sporting cruelly twisted fingers.
I feel my stomach give a disgusted lurch. “What did you do?”
“Hmm?” Aleksandar looks over his shoulder, for all the world as though he’s forgotten the terrible bodily harm he’s inflicted. “Oh, that. I got bored waiting for you, Agent. I thought I’d have some fun first. Pity though, I’m not used to my toys breaking so easily.”
“You—” Before I can complete the step I hadn’t been aware of taking, Noel grabs my arm. He holds me tight against him, one arm actually hooked across my chest to hold me in place.
“Dee-Dee, no. He wants it.”
Oh, he wants it. I’m pretty damn sure he wants it, but is he prepared for what he’s about to get?
The rage builds in me and I struggle against Noel’s grip. “What the fuck is wrong with you? This isn’t a game. You’re toying with real people and real lives. Wendy is a good man and you’ve destroyed him.”
“Not yet.” And with a sly smile, Aleksandar returns to Wendy’s fallen form and drags him up by the collar.
I can taste my pulse. Time seems to slow. Somehow I know what’s coming, but there’s nothing I can do to stop it.
My mouth opens. Words trip off my tongue, but I can barely hear them over the roaring of my own blood thundering in my ears.
Aleksandar hefts Wendy’s limp body up to shoulder height and smiles wide and bright. Still watching me, never once breaking eye contact, he shoves the claws of his free hand deep into Wendy’s throat, clenches, and pulls.
Blood fountains everywhere. Not as much as it might from a healthy body, but enough to spray out by a good six feet. Raw, panicked choking sounds issue from Wendy’s slack mouth while his maimed hands flutter weakly at the gory red mess that was once his throat.
Chapter Twenty-four
There’s screaming. Shouting.
No, no, no, no, not again. I know those screams. It’s me. It’s my voice and I’m yelling, shrieking, cursing, bellowing. My face is wet, tears, blood, or a mix of both. Still I’m pulling, heaving against Noel’s grip, but now Jadz is helping him and they’re both drawing me backward. Away. Away. Away.
After a few seconds of my struggles, Jadz puts me back under her arm like before. Her muffled exertions give away how much tougher it is this time, but she is still able to pull me away from Aleksandar.
In the time it takes me to writhe free of her grip and back to the ground, Aleksandar has cleaned his claws, sucking blood off each one in turn. I stare as he drops Wendy’s dying body to the road. Watch as he lifts one large hand toward me. With a glare of my own, I pull my gun into my hand.
“Kill them,” he hisses.
The three wolves pinning Spannah to the ground at last release him. He throws himself down over Wendy’s body, sobbing like a child, gathering the body into his arms to rock it back and forth. He doesn’t seem to care about the order for his death, doesn’t even hear it, simply hugs Wendy’s body to his own and wails up at the night sky. Wails that quickly turn to howls of grief and despair.
Noel immediately has his gun in one hand, the knife in his other. He backs up, a sideways shuffle step while turning his head this way and that. “Time to leave, baby.”
Jadz tightens her grip on my waist. “Leave where?”
“Just away from here.”
But there’s nowhere to go. The seven guard wolves plus the other three are closing in around us from every side, forming a solid wall of bodies. They step closer, closer still and show off the tell-tale signs of changes with growing claws and lengthening hair.
The three of us stand back to back.
My gun clicks as I cock it. I can barely see through the tears and my outstretched arm is wobbling enough that I feel the trembles right up to my shoulder. No. This isn’t good. I can’t shoot like this.
“Don’t do it,” says Noel. “We are agents of SPEAR. Attacking us is a crime, you know this. We will defend ourselves.”
Someone leaps at me. Man, woman, I don’t even know, but instinct squeezes my finger on the trigger before I can figure it out. The bullet, though effective, goes wide and clips the attacking wolf across the side of the head. They drop to the ground with a spray of blood from their head, howling and kicking back and forth.
“Consider that a warning.” Noel’s voice ratchets up the urgency. “We won’t allow you to harm us. Move aside.”
More growls from the crowd.
My hand wobbles again.
A woman partway through her shift works her way forward. Denim and cotton split along the seams as her young body becomes too large for containment. Long, golden hair thickens and darkens to tan which goes still further into a deep brown colour. A growl slides from her lips.
Crack.
The growl turns into a startled howl and the she-wolf drops to one knee, clutching at a wound in her thigh. Hatred burns in her eyes, visible even through the fog of my tears.
“Last warning,” says Noel. “Next time I aim for heads.”
A shrill yip at our back signals Jadz cutting off an attack. My gaze flicks her direction for the briefest second, but that’s all it takes because next thing I know, I’m flat on my back, gun barrel jammed into the mouth of the wolf trying to bite off my face.
With a yelp, I fire and scrunch my eyes shut against the gout of blood that drips from the abruptly slack mouth. The body collapses atop mine and the weight is immense, crushing my chest and stealing my breath.
I can’t catch any air. I still can’t see, and more gunshots fire into the night as Noel commits himself to a fight.
It’s already hopeless. That much is plain to anybody with two brain cells to rub together. Too many wolves, nowhere to run, and a squishy human body to boot. I’m dead. I know I am. As dead as Wendy.
My vision clears as I use a blood-spotted sleeve to wipe my face.
“No. No, I won’t let that grumpy old bastard die for nothing.”
The pep talk gets me moving. Gets me driving my heels into the ground and thrusting sideways to shove that dead weight off my chest. Air swells my lungs in a rush, but there’s no time to enjoy it, just the gleaming amber eyes of two more werewolves in full wolf form, bounding toward me with their tails up.
I don’t bother standing, just aim, gun hand cupped with the other for support.
The first wolf drops like a stone, without a sound. The next, dances sideways and takes the rushed second shot along the top of its head. A mangled flap of skin flies away on the breeze, a shredded piece of furry ear.
It keeps coming, jaws hanging wide and angled down to scoop up my flailing feet. I scoot back and aim again, this time to send a bullet powering through face and neck. The wolf drops and skids to a stop beside me, panting and bleeding. Dying.
“Dee-Dee!”
I can’t see Noel, only hear the panic in his voice over the rush of blood in my ears and repeated gunshots. Scrambling to my feet scrapes my hands and knees, but it’s so much better than being prone.
Perhaps shocked by the follow-through on the threat to shoot, the remaining four wolves of Aleksandar’s guard stop advancing. Jadz has shredded her clothing and met her hybrid form, a huge, stooped beast in white and grey. Her tail has a curious little tuft in it, bu
t most interesting is her eyes—bright blue.
Nobody has touched her yet, probably because the look on her furry face is fierce and terrifying. She extends a massive, claw-tipped paw and grabs me by the scruff. “Let’s go.”
“But—”
“They only want you. The rest of us are incidental collateral. Now move.”
I’ve no idea how she knows this, but I can’t fight with a face like that.
Jadz pushes me ahead of her, then reaches back to perform the same scooping motion on Noel.
“Baby—”
“These idiots won’t dare attack a Grey Tail, Noel. Not if they want strength left to fight that other pack. Just go.”
So we run.
* * *
I hate running, especially like this. Sure, I’m fit enough to casually run several miles, but a leisurely hour or two of exercise is worlds apart from sprinting for my life. I can’t control my breathing, my legs are unsteady, and every few strides I’m forced to dodge or outright shoot at an advancing enemy.
Far too soon my gun clicks instead of cracks and I’m left with a useless hunk of metal I can’t stop long enough to reload.
Noel and I are side by side now, haring back to the car. It isn’t far, barely a quarter mile, but it may as well be on the moon for all the good it does us. Jadz still protects our backs, darting back and forth to intercept any of the last four guard wolves.
Around us are the observing crowds, and I catch more bets flying back and forth as they gamble on our fate. But none of them move toward us. Yet. Whatever Aleksandar has arranged here I grudgingly thank it, because we might just manage to escape four werewolves. Might.
We leave one street to take another, rounding a corner marked by a twisted street lamp. Fire burns in my lungs from the breakneck pace, and the first twinges of a stitch starts to tingle beneath my ribs. There’s no choice though; keep running, don’t look back, even when my locs ruffle on the rush of air from a wolf a little too close.
Moon Fever Page 21
