Everafter Series 2 - Nevermore (15 page)

“We have to assume Brenner has taken control of the safehouses and waypoints in Tinmel, Tazalt, and Areg.” Katya circled each city in red. “Perhaps the villages to the north?” She gestured at a smattering of dots too small to even be labeled on the map.

Constantine considered the suggestion for a moment, then grunted his assent. “We’ll split up into small groups. No more than six in each. Send some north and some to the west.” He pointed to some additional unnamed dots a distance away from Telassar. “These villages are too small. If we all show up at once, Balthasar will catch wind of it. Better to split up and stagger our escape.”

“We’ll put you and Alexa in different groups—”

“No. Alexa stays with me.”

Katya’s head jerked up in surprise. “Brenner specifically asked for you two by name. I think it’s better if we separate you. That way he’ll have to split his forces if he wants to go after you both.”

Constantine shook his head emphatically. “He wants us alive. I gave his men every opportunity to gun me down today and they didn’t. I’m not so sure he cares about the other Weres in this city. He may let them go without a care; he may find them a liability. We endanger fewer people if we go together. Alexa is my responsibility. I owe it to Helen to make sure she gets back to New York safely.”

It was interesting to hear Constantine talk about Helen; he spoke her name with both familiarity and deference. He seemed to know her on a personal level, not only as the Master vampire of New York City. The few in-depth conversations I’d had with Constantine had never broached Consortium politics—when he could give me the time, we always discussed methods of cultivating a stronger integrated relationship with our feline halves. Now I wished I had pressed him on his own story, and his reasons for inviting me to Telassar through Helen.

He turned to Katya with an air of confidence that made me feel reassured despite the fraught situation. “Draw up the groups as you see fit, but Alexa stays with me. Report back to me in half an hour. We deploy at nightfall.”

Chapter Twelve

Night unfurled before me like a riddle, revealing itself gradually with each beat of my paws. Ahead of me and to my right, Constantine set the pace, a flowing stride that favored stealth over speed. Seeking to divide Brenner’s forces as much as possible, we had parted ways with Katya and Delacourte as soon as we were clear of the perimeter of Telassar. The plan was to meet up, in human form, just outside of Aguerda, a small town on the southwestern edge of the Toubkal National Park. From there we hoped to reach the Consortium to arrange our evacuation.

The hardest part had been picking the Weres to join us in the escape. Neither Constantine nor Katya trusted anyone implicitly, especially the wolves. In the end, fewer than twenty of the more than two hundred Weres in Telassar were included in our escape plans. Constantine and Katya had assembled the select group in the map room above the brig. Besides Delacourte, I recognized a few of Katya’s armed guards, but the other escapees were strangers to me. There were neither questions nor debate when the plan was unveiled and I wondered if they had been chosen as much for obedience as trustworthiness. The exclusivity bothered me. I couldn’t help but think that my freedom would be bought at the expense of the lives we left behind.

The plan was simple: we would leave Telassar in small, staggered groups through the city’s labyrinthine network of underground waterways and drainage tunnels. The outer rings of the city had been built on wetlands resulting from the runoff of water from the surrounding mountain peaks. The drainage system formed the foundation of the expansion and continued to provide rudimentary plumbing and sewage facilities. It was unlikely that Brenner knew of the existence of these tunnels, and even if he did, the sheer complexity of the system and the number of outlets made guarding every exit point virtually impossible.

Constantine made a sharp turn at the next clearing, leaping over a fallen tree. I adjusted automatically and fell into stride behind him. My panther, oblivious to the potential danger all around us, luxuriated in the freedom of the run after spending the last several days stymied by Brenner’s siege. Escaping through the tunnels had been especially bad. I had never been claustrophobic before, but hours of crawling through the choking stench of sewage and detritus in pitch darkness had nearly pushed my anxiety to the breaking point. Every inch had been a bargain with my sanity and a struggle with the panther. I had cried actual tears of relief when we finally tumbled, exhausted, into the forest a quarter mile south of the city’s walls. My panther had come quickly, then, the tremors of my turn upon me before the final syllable of “Uje” passed my lips. Weary of my own racing thoughts, I had willingly surrendered the last threads of control to my animal half. She would follow Constantine, the established alpha, and her feline instincts were far better than my human ones to keep us alive. While I envied Constantine his connection with his beast, and sought to achieve my own someday, for now I took advantage of the respite from full control to rest my human psyche.

It was almost dawn before we stopped. Constantine had led us to a hiking way station, vacant and deserted in the off-hours. We tracked and killed a gazelle to turn back into human form and then broke a window to get into the station. Once inside, we were able to scavenge clothes from the staff closet and lost and found. In another time and place, without Brenner and his army in hot pursuit, the sight of Constantine in a Hard Rock T-shirt and baggy cargo shorts would have made a hilarious snapshot to share with Val. My heart clenched at the mental image of Val laughing out loud, an increasingly rare occurrence since our induction into the world of vampires and Weres. The urge to get home was overwhelming, and I forced myself to concentrate on my immediate surroundings to ground myself against the wave of nostalgia that threatened to paralyze me.

The way station was small and sparse. It served as little more than a rest stop for tourists. There was no phone or computer set-up, just a vintage-looking shortwave radio that Constantine examined extensively before declaring it unusable for our purposes. Over the entrance, a battered clock with a cracked dial matched the window we had just broken into. It said the time was just past four in the morning. A sign on the door indicated that the station would open at nine, so we had a few hours to spare. I perused the racks of pamphlets and maps and learned that we were approximately eight kilometers from Aguerda, our rendezvous point with Katya and Delacourte. I turned to Constantine to ask him when he wanted to head out and I was surprised to find him lying, with his eyes closed, on a bench against the far wall.

“We made good time and took the most direct route. It will be a while before the others catch up to us. You should rest now while you have the chance.” Constantine’s eyes remained closed as he answered my unspoken query.

I claimed the remaining bench and tried to make myself comfortable. I was physically and mentally exhausted, but my panther, exhilarated by the escape and the recent hunt, fidgeted anxiously just beneath the surface. I was bursting with questions. How were we going to get word out to the Consortium without Brenner knowing? Why did Brenner want me as a hostage? Question after question thwarted my attempts to rest.

“Why would Brenner declare war on his own kind?” I surprised myself by asking out loud. “If his rage is directed primarily at the vampires, then why bother with retaking Telassar at all? Is it because of his history as one of its founders?”

“In part, yes.” Constantine remained still, looking up into the rafters of the way station. “I have no doubt that he regards Telassar as his sovereign territory still. But the city’s symbolic value to our community cannot be underestimated. Whoever holds Telassar has an elevated status among the Weremasters of the world. It is our primary seat of power.”

“Still, I think I’m starting to agree with Delacourte: Weres fighting their own kind only seems natural to a point, and Brenner’s ongoing fight with the Consortium is far, far beyond that point.”

“Don’t forget,” Constantine said, “that Brenner does not, in fact, consider us to be ‘his kind.’ He has few scruples.”

“Not his kind? You mean, not wolves?”

“I mean not pureblood. Brenner is descended—or so he claims—from a line of born werewolves and he is an outspoken advocate of pureblood superiority. He does not consider turned Weres, like us, to be his kind at all. He and his followers call themselves the Ferai.”

“The Ferai? What language is that from?”

“It is not from any known language. That is why they use it. They refuse to use the term ‘Were’ because it is derived from the Old English word for ‘man.’ They consider themselves neither man nor animal but an evolutionary step above both.” Constantine’s voice bore no trace of vehemence, only exasperation, and I was glad he did not share Balthasar Brenner’s bigoted contempt.

“So he’s done this before? Attacked other Weres, I mean.”

“Before the Consortium came into power, skirmishes broke out constantly between purebloods and turned shifters. Mostly they were territorial or interspecies disputes. Telassar has always been a haven for turned Weres to nurture their animal sides. As such, it has been attacked many times over the centuries. But most of the meaningless turf battles ended when the Consortium was formed.”

I flashed back to an image of Helen glaring at me from across her wooden desk while explaining the “necessary evil” that was the Red Circuit. Violence was inevitable for our kind, she reasoned; better that she allowed it in a controlled setting than let it run rampant in the open. It didn’t surprise me that Helen and her Consortium would find an effective method to neutralize millennia of Were in-fighting. “But what’s changed? Why is Brenner attacking now?”

Constantine shifted restlessly on his bench. “I am not sure. He has been opposed to the Consortium from the very beginning. If there is one thing that Balthasar hates more than turned Weres, it is vampires. He chafes at the alliance because he believes that Weres have been subordinated to vampires in the agreement.”

“But if he has contempt for turned Weres, why should he care who we consort with?” I heard the petulance in my own voice and hated myself for letting Brenner get under my skin. What Constantine had said about subordination pricked all my defensive instincts when it came to protecting and justifying my relationship with Valentine. “It seems like he’s just a self-important egomaniac using his dubious celebrity to stir up trouble.”

“I do not pretend to know Balthasar Brenner’s motivations. But if there is one thing that you can count on, it is that his hatred runs deep. He has vowed, boldly and openly, to take the Consortium down. Perhaps he has lost his last shred of reason and decided to finally follow through.”

“Do you think he can make good on that threat?”

“I do not know. Before last week, I would have said no. But he has managed to take Telassar with no intervention from the Consortium. It is imperative that we get through to Helen because she will need our help.”

It did not escape me that despite our predicament, Constantine’s primary concern would be for the Consortium. From our first meeting, I sensed that his loyalty to Helen seemed to run deeper than could be explained by politics or business. There was a story lurking beneath the surface. Where Helen Lambros was concerned, the reasons behind our acquaintances were often complicated and personal.

*

Constantine woke me a few hours before the way station was scheduled to open. I had managed to fall asleep for an hour. My back ached from the hard wooden bench, but resting had been a good idea. I felt more mentally alert. We tidied up, doing our best to cover our tracks, but the broken window was a glaring sign of our intrusion. I made a mental note to send an anonymous donation to the park’s wildlife fund when I got back to New York.

We followed the trail toward the city, taking care to avoid the major paths. Even at this early hour, several tourists were already winding their way toward the park. Aguerda would be similarly busy. We decided to take a longer route that brought us in under the cover of the freight trucks and vendor caravans hauling in the day’s market goods. From there, we would make our way through the side roads and alleys toward the café Katya had chosen for our rendezvous point.

Aguerda was a small city that doubled in population during the tourist season with hikers seeking to explore the mountain ranges in the national park. We slowed as we walked through the city to match the relaxed pace set by the locals. I saw a convenience store that had a hand-painted sign in the window advertising their satellite pay phones. I pointed this out excitedly to Constantine and began to cross the street toward the store, but stopped abruptly as Constantine’s hand closed on my shoulder and pulled me back.

“They are closed.” He gestured toward another sign that I had not seen in my excitement. “And we are running late. We will come back once we have met up with Katya and Delacourte.”

Every ounce of me wanted to rush to the store and beat down the door until the shopkeeper let us in, but I let Constantine lead me away and down the street. As we rounded the final corner toward our destination, he stopped and lifted his head slightly to both sides, scenting the air. Ahead of us was the café with a bench out front painted in a cheerful orange color. The street was narrow and deserted, unusual for this time of day. Constantine gestured for me to head back toward the main street. I turned around to see three rough-looking men approaching us with handguns visible. I spun back toward the café in time to see two additional men with guns step out of the door.

Fear and anger cascaded through me, bringing me to the balls of my feet. “It’s a trap.”

Next to me, Constantine vibrated with energy. His beast was near the surface and I could tell he was debating the benefits of staying or shifting. My own panther surged to life as she sensed the danger all around us. I focused my control on keeping her in check while waiting for Constantine’s lead. The men were converging on our position quickly, and I felt, rather than saw, Constantine dip into a crouch beside me. He was going to make the change. I loosened my hold on the panther and felt her awareness flooding mine. Beneath the reek of cigarette smoke I could scent the particular metallic musk of wolves. I was just about to utter my summoning word when I picked up another scent, earthen and familiar, and looked up to see Katya emerging from the café. I had only a second to register surprise at the fact that the gunmen paid no attention to her, for in the next moment, another familiar figure stepped out into the street.