Authors: Richard Parry
“They’re trying to find the magic bullet too.”
“Perhaps.
They engineered this virus, with inconsistent results.
But we have the edge in medical science.”
“So you busted him out and shipped him here?”
Val gestured around the room.
“Where is he?”
“Containment is… tricky.
It’s why we’ve adopted a different approach in your situation.”
Val’s stare went flat.
“Adalia.”
“Yes.
I’m sorry about that.
I have a daughter too.”
“I know.”
Val felt tired more than anything else.
“How is it done?”
“We’re going to need you to bite Birkita.”
“You’re joking, of course.”
“I’m quite serious, Mr. Everard.
Saliva appears to be the universal carrier within all the werewolf legends.”
Elsie frowned.
“I’ve read them all.”
“All of them?”
“Aside from recent pulp literature, yes.
Did you know many cultures had a shape shifting lore?”
“Like skinwalkers?”
“Ah.
You’re familiar with other sources of the truth.”
“I wouldn’t say that.
I saw a really bad movie with the same title.
I’d hardly call it historical cannon.”
Val shrugged.
“Rhona Mitra is fine.”
“Regardless.”
Elsie waved a hand.
“A bite that breaks the skin seems to be the necessary means of transmission.”
“That’s a little surreal.
Have you briefed your daughter about this?”
“Not yet.
I’ll be talking to her shortly.”
“Can I suggest an alternative?
It seems a bit unhygienic to follow your path.”
“I’m listening.”
Elsie crossed her arms on the screen.
“Why not give her a cut, and swab me for some spit.
That way she doesn’t have to have some scary man bite her arm.”
“It might not work.”
Elsie took off her glasses, and tapped them against her hand.
“The legends are all fairly specific.”
“One second you say it’s a virus.
The next it’s a legend.
Can we at least try it my way first?”
Elsie seemed lost in thought, then said, “Yes.
It’ll need to be a fresh sample though.
Mr. Everard, let me talk to my daughter, then we’ll try it your way.”
“You’re forgetting something.”
“Adalia?”
“Yes.”
Val shrugged.
“That’s why I’m here.”
“If I may be blunt, you’re here to die.”
Elsie shrugged.
“That seems to be what you want.”
“In the end, yes.”
Val looked at his hands, turning them over.
“But first, I need to see she’s safe.”
“Once our business is done, I’ll have Sam fly her to the city.
Will that suffice?”
“I’ve a question first.
Are you expecting company?”
“I’m sorry?”
“It’s just that when I looked out the window before, I saw a couple guys creeping around at the edge of the forest.”
“Two men?”
“Yes.
One of them was your crazy Russian.
The other was that soldier you sent after me.”
“Spencer?”
“Spencer, that’s the guy.”
Val sighed.
“It figures.
You’re going to kill Adalia anyway.”
Elsie looked off screen again, then back to Val.
“You must believe me, Mr. Everard.
Our agreement…
I intend to honour it.”
“Hm.
Spencer still on the books?”
“The books?”
“Look.”
Val spread his hands.
“You guys make me sick.
This whole thing is a cluster fuck.
You’ve killed people.
You’re threatening the people I love.
You’ve brought my friends into danger.
That’s on you.
Your methods are not exactly above board.”
“I —”
Elsie stopped, then looked off screen again.
She tapped on her keyboard.
“Mr. Everard, I need to go.”
“Elsie —”
There was a muffled
whump
, and the building shook.
Val stood.
“That’s not good news, is it?”
“Did you bring friends, Mr. Everard?”
“Do I look like I need backup?”
Elsie didn’t answer.
The screen faded back into being a mirror.
Shit
, thought Val.
This just got a little more complicated.
He wondered where John was.
He looked at the door.
They kill within their own pack.
It was time to find Adalia.
He walked to the door, gripping the handle with one hand.
He leaned back, pulling, and after a moment the handle popped free in his hand.
He stared at it for a moment, then at the door.
“No expense my ass.
What kind of lousy workmanship is that?”
He shrugged.
Stop talking to yourself, Val
.
It’s the first sign of madness
.
Val looked around the room, then backed away from the door.
He braced himself, then charged the door with his shoulder.
It crashed free of the frame, landing in the corridor outside.
Val coughed at the dust, waving it from his face as he looked around.
There were no damn signs.
There are no clever symbols that guide us to prey
.
He looked left, then right, then closed his eyes, listening, his breathing and pulse slowing.
Yelling.
A scream.
Gunfire.
An engine.
A child’s voice.
It is not pup.
There.
He’d bet dollars to donuts that was Birkita.
Finding her was a step in the right direction.
Hell, maybe he could even ask her what
she
wanted.
Whatever — he’d need to head up to get there.
He knew it wasn’t Adalia, but —
Another explosion shook the building and he stumbled, a hand going to the wall to steady himself.
A child’s scream.
Pup!
“Wait!”
He gritted his teeth, holding himself back.
He wanted to run, to climb, to get to her, to —
Kill them all.
“I said wait!”
A sliver of saliva ran down his chin.
“No.
Think.”
They have pup.
“The explosions.
Are down.
Adalia.
Is up.”
He breathed in and out, talking himself through it.
“They want me.
We need to get her out first.
To safety.
To John.”
Kill.
“We need to be silent.
Not draw… the hunt to us.”
Val swallowed.
“We can’t lead them to Adalia.”
There was silence in his head.
He swallowed again, relaxing a little.
Slowly, he walked towards the elevators
— there should be a stairwell up.
Then — well, one step at a time.
But there’d be no killing until she was safe.
He needed to be discrete.
After that —
They will die.
Val nodded.
There’d be plenty of time later.
For everything.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
“I can tell that you work out.”
John leaned against the wall.
“Stow it, Miles.”
Carlisle didn’t turn to look at him.
Which was fine by John — she didn’t look pretty when she was angry.
She was on his left side, peering around the edge of one of the low prefab buildings of the complex.
They’d run to the edge of the building; the prefabs were the only cover between the central building and the forest’s edge.
“No, really.
And your back especially.”
That earned him a glance over the shoulder.
“What?”
“Well, it’s all I can see.
Because you’re in the way.”
John gestured at the building’s corner.
“What’s the play?”
“I’m in the way because you’re a civilian.
Both of you are.”
Carlisle leaned back against the wall next to them.
She pulled her sidearm out, checking it for the hundredth time.
“You shouldn’t even be here.”
“It’s not your daughter in there.”
Danny was on the other side of John, to his right.
He was pretty sure Val was going to kill him for letting her come along.
Still, it’s not like he was in a position to stop her — the look on her face as he’d tried to start the conversation would have made Mike Tyson think twice about stepping in that ring.
John raised his hands up.
“It’s cool, you know.
She’s on our side.”
“I’m just saying.”
Danny looked at her shoes.
“Well, this is uncomfortable.”
John leaned away from the wall, stretching.
“Talk about a rose between two thorns.”
“Sorry, Miles.”
Carlisle shrugged.
“This isn’t in the SOP.”
“SOP?”
“Standard Operating — you know, never mind.”
Carlisle nodded to the large building in the middle of the compound.
“That looks to be where the action happens.”
“What tipped you off?
That it’s in the middle, that it’s the biggest, or the legion of soldiers running in there?”
John studied his nails.
“Christ.
I don’t know how you survived this long.
I’d shoot you myself if I didn’t need you to draw their fire.”
Carlisle’s grin was wry.
Danny hefted the crossbow.
“I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do with this.”
“It was your idea.”
John shrugged.
“Wave it at people if they look like they want to shoot you.”
“I know that, it’s just —”
The crossbow twanged, the bolt skidding up and into the sky.
It missed John’s face by inches.
He pushed the front of the weapon away.
“Easy, tiger.”
“Sorry!”
Danny lowered the crossbow down to her side.
“I slipped.”
“No, it’s fine.”
Carlisle smiled.
“You missed him though.
Next time, a few more inches, and — pow.”
John looked between them.
“I’m not feeling loved.”
He rubbed his jaw.
“That was pretty close.
If she could aim, she’d be dangerous.”
Danny grabbed another bolt from the quiver strapped to her leg, putting it in the crossbow.
“It’s lucky they don’t know I can’t aim.”
“We know now.”
The voice was nasty, and all three of them spun.
Two men dressed in black had walked around the corner, guns trained on them.
John heard a twang —
how’d she get it cocked so fast?
— as Danny fired her crossbow.
The bolt went through the throat of the man who’d spoken.
Carlisle was already moving, her left arm batting a rifle away as her right swung into a savage uppercut.
The man stumbled back, but Carlisle held his rifle; she kicked down hard against his knee, and he fell forward again.
The edge of her free hand speared into his throat below the helmet.
She kicked him back with one foot, drawing her sidearm and firing into the man’s visor three times.
He jerked with each shot, then fell down.
“Christ.”
John looked behind him at Danny.
“I thought you said you couldn’t aim?”
Danny looked at the crossbow in her hands like it was a snake.
“I…
It went off.”
Carlisle frowned at her.
“It went off right this time.”
She turned to look at the two men on the ground.
The one with the bolt protruding from his neck was clawing weakly at the shaft as red foam bubbled around the edges of the wound.
She stepped over him and fired twice into his visor.
The man was still.
“That’s probably our element of surprise gone.”
John looked at the two dead men, then back to Carlisle.
“I’ve seen that show
Cops
, on TV.
Those guys don’t fight like that.”
“A girl has to have hobbies.”
Carlisle was searching the bodies.