Wolfen (40 page)

To stave off the freak-out he could sense coming, Aiden
pressed the knife’s handle into her hand and ordered, “Keep this with you
always, got it? If I’m not around and someone or something comes near you, you
cut them, and don’t stop cutting until they stop coming.”

Her big brown eyes overflowed with tears. “My mommy’s dead,”
she whispered.

Aiden hugged her tight. “I know, baby. I’m so sorry.” Were
it safe, he’d have taken the time to console her, but they were still too close
to Haven, too much blood saturating the air. Aiden couldn’t risk it. With
another quick squeeze, he resettled her against his side so he could keep an
arm free. He stuffed her doll into his pocket, palmed the machete, and set out
after Klaus again.

Before long, the tunnel spewed him out into a massive cave
with an opening like the doors of an airplane hangar. Klaus was already out,
his guards scoping the area for a safe route.

Keeping to the shadows, Aiden crept closer to listen.

“Where to now?” the pale guard asked in a demanding tone.
Not the way one spoke to a boss if he valued his neck.

Klaus picked up on it, too, and drew his shoulders back. “It
is not far from here. We are very close.”

“Cut the shit, old man. Where’s the convoy?”

“I will take you to it. We will be driving away from here in
the comfort of a fully-fueled und stocked Humvee.”

“Yeah, that’s what you said to Jace, too. But you didn’t
have any trouble gunning him down like a piece of meat. So I’m thinking you
tell me right now, and I decide whether I still trust you at my back.” He
pointed his gun at Klaus’ head.

Yeah, that’s the proper incentive. Moron.

“Drake, stand down,” Frankie ordered.

“Shut up and move over there. Where is the convoy, old man?”

Klaus raised his arms, but his smile said he wasn’t worried
in the least. “How will you know if I lie?”

“Come on, man, we can talk about this,” Frankie said. “Just
put the gun down.” Even Aiden didn’t believe that.

“Shut the
fuck up!
” Drake turned his head to spit the
order at Frankie. He’d barely finished the sentence when a knife buried in his
cranium.

Aiden tensed, squeezing the machete so tightly, the grip
nearly warped in his hand. Klaus was so close, Aiden could taste his death. How
easy it would be. Just one gun and an old man. Aiden could be on him in three
strides if—

“…and signal to every convert in a thousand mile radius?
I don’t think so.”

Frankie turned toward the new voice. It was distant, out of
sight, but coming closer.

“I’m fine, it’s just scratches. We need to keep moving.”

The fucking witch!

Klaus tapped Frank on the shoulder, gave a silent order,
dispatching the assassin to retrieve their supplies from the fallen guard.

Now,
Aiden thought, seeing the perfect opportunity to
put an end to all of this.
Take him now!

But no matter how much he wanted to strike the death blow,
his feet wouldn’t move. Not with Casey in his arms. Klaus stood back like the
fucking Caesar, waiting for Frankie to disarm the body so he wouldn’t have to
lift a finger. A nasty look twisted his face, at the same time disgusted with
the sight around him and somehow eager as he turned toward his daughter’s
voice.

Aiden gently pried Casey off of him and set her down in the
shadows, close enough to the exit so she could run, but hidden from easy view.
Her wide-eyed stare of betrayal cut him to the quick, but he wasn’t leaving her
forever.

Curling her fingers tighter around the knife with his own,
Aiden held her gaze so she’d remember what he told her. Then he placed a finger
to his lips for silence and winked, hoping she’d trust him enough to stay put
until he returned.

Chewing her lip to stop her chin from trembling, Casey
nodded.

Aiden pushed to his feet, and faced the mouth of the cave.

Klaus and his man were gone.

Didn’t matter. Aiden had the perfect weapon now, and he
wasn’t hesitant to use it.

He bared his teeth and called up the beast.

Facial lacerations bleed like a bitch. Too many tiny
vesicles too close to the surface. A minor scratch can expose enough blood to
the air to call converts from miles away. Arik’s right; I need to take care of
this. But it’s too late now. The damage is done, and it’s not just on my face.
There is blood pooling in the socket of my prosthesis, making it slick, and I
worry it’ll slip off completely.

I can’t make myself stop long enough to address it. Like
a chicken with its head cut off, I keep walking to put more distance between
myself and Haven. I don’t even care where I’m going. I’m out in the open for
the first time in more years than I care to count, and the sudden emergence
into vast, open space is making me a little crazy.

Okay, a lot crazy.

You try escaping from that kind of death trap and see
what it does to you.

~

“Seriously, Dez, you need to stop.” Arik grabbed her arm,
pulling her off balance, but he kept a firm hold and steadied her until she
could stand on her own. Then he kept hold to stop her from going any farther.
“Sit down,” he said.

Desiree couldn’t catch her breath, eyes open so wide, she
had to blink faster to keep them moist. Like a massive case of fear-induced
hypersensitivity, she wanted to look everywhere at the same time, but couldn’t
register the sights around her. Her ears picked up on every little rustle of
wind through dry grass, but none of the sounds made any sense. Arik had to
repeat himself three times before she caught onto what he wanted, and even then
she had to force herself to comply.

Her ass met hard rock as he sat her down, not bothering with
the artificial knee pin. He rummaged through the pack and pulled out a canteen.
“Drink,” he said.

Desiree took it, shocked by how badly her hands shook. She
couldn’t take more than one sip without spilling.

Meanwhile, Arik tore off a piece of bandage roll to use as
gauze. Then he looked at it and the small bottle of ethyl alcohol in his hands,
and gave the lot to her. “Here, you do it.”

“A mirror would help.”

“You’re not putting on makeup. Just swab…” He gestured in a
vague circle around his face. “Everywhere you can reach.”

In deference to her clumsiness, he doused the gauze and let
her clean up her face. The scratches stung when she passed over them, and she
counted six regions, all small enough to barely stain the gauze red. But they
were still open wounds. The cut on her neck was worse and required another ball
of bandage. By the time she’d finished, she felt calmer, more in control.
“There. Better?”

“Pretty as a sunrise,” Arik replied dryly, and packed
everything back up. With a sigh, he sat on his haunches and looked around. “So,
which way do we go?”

“Where are we?” Now that the adrenaline had worn off again,
her thigh was starting to throb. While they were resting, she pulled up her
pant leg to survey the damage in the light of day.

Arik was too busy gauging their location to notice her
wince. “I’d say we’re about seven miles east of Haven. You think you can find
those… What the fuck, Dez?”

The rim of her socket was stained dark with blood.
Apparently, pushing it farther up her stump had been a mistake; all she’d done
was pinch the wound open. Sure, the tight fit kept it from bleeding too much
for the moment, but as soon as she undid the straps, everything would reopen.

“You need to do something about that.”

“No.” She shoved her pant leg down. “I need you to help me
get to the car.” With this much blood, it would require stitches, and there was
no way to keep things sterile out here. She needed a semi-controlled
environment, a fire to disinfect her tools, and time to concentrate on the task
without the fear of being hunted by converts. “We’re about eight miles away. I
can make it that far.”

Arik shook his head.

“Come on! The faster we get out of here the safer we’ll be.
Now help me up!”

Still not happy, Arik shouldered the pack and pulled her up.
“I don’t like this,” he said.

Desiree leaned on him with her weight on her good leg and
pointed to where they needed to go. “Yeah, I’m not exactly jumping for joy,
either. But look on the bright side.”

“What’s that?”

“We’re still alive.”

A massive force suddenly slammed into them from the back and
bore them to the ground. Desiree fought to catch her breath, as Arik grunted
and rolled away, taking the foreign weight with him. She squinted through the
dust, and caught sight of a knife.

“Jesus.” That son of a whore, Frank! She pushed up,
searching for anything to use as a weapon. Bastard was
not
going to screw
her over a second time!

Her prosthesis caught on something and she went down again.
Desiree turned over, right into the path of Klaus’ knuckles. The blow turned
her the other way, and then Klaus was on top of her, hands wrapped around her
throat. “
Verfluchte Hure!
”

Against Klaus’ maniacal fervor, her pathetic efforts were
less than useless. She clawed at his face but only managed to dislodge his
glasses while he screamed at her in German, eyes bulging. He raised her up by
her throat, and slammed her down again. The back of her head struck hard
ground, dazed her, but Desiree wasn’t ready to offer her last breath for Klaus’
satisfaction.

Her vision was whiting out at the edges. Not much time left…

Wake up! Fucking do something! Don’t you dare let him
win!

Desiree dug her thumb into Klaus’ eye. He shrieked and
released her throat to get her off, but with his knee still on her chest, he
kept her pinned and away from his face as he sat up. She gasped for breath,
tried to get her bearings, to call for Arik, but the world spun too fast for
her to find an anchor.

Klaus grabbed her face, fingers digging into her jaw. Blood
streamed down his cheek, the remnants of his eye hanging over his lower eyelid,
and if Desiree could scream, she would have. No sight on Earth was more
terrifying to her than her father’s demonic visage snarling, “Eye for an eye,
mein
Liebchen
.”

Desiree flinched sideways, and froze.

Wrong.

There was something more terrifying than Klaus.

And it was standing right behind him.

Klaus’ hand hovered over her face, and Desiree couldn’t even
close her eyes to protect them. Not while that monster stood there, staring at
them both.

All of the notes and descriptions in the world couldn’t have
prepared Desiree for the sight of a fully turned, pissed off Wolfen male. It
stood massive; over a foot taller than before with distended muscles. Its face
was a grotesque meld of man and beast—nose flattened, mouth extended into a
muzzle filled with killer fangs.

When it struck, it happened so fast, Desiree’s mind barely
registered it—one second, Klaus’ finger was touching the corner of her eye; the
next, he was flying through the air to land in the dust ten yards away.

Her sudden release rent a scream from her throat, and she
pushed herself up to sit, but her flight response ended there. Desiree couldn’t
move another inch, too caught up in the horror of the Wolfen toying with Klaus,
tossing him around like an orca with a baby seal. Klaus sailed through the air,
landed hard a distance away, only to be snatched up and thrown again. Each time
Klaus fell, he moved a little less, responded a little slower, screamed a
little weaker.

He sailed high one last time, then dropped a few yards away
from Desiree, crumpled like a rag doll. The Wolfen took its time retrieving
him. It reached down with a giant hand tipped with razor-sharp black claws,
grasped the old man by the throat, and lifted him easily, dangling him in the
air.

Klaus was still alive, feet kicking weakly, mouth working,
trying to take in more air.

The Wolfen gripped Klaus’ left arm and squeezed. Bones
snapped. Klaus screamed, and kept on screaming as the arm slowly detached from
his body.

Desiree moaned and slapped a hand over her mouth, stomach
clenching as the Wolfen removed Klaus’ other arm and carelessly tossed it
aside. With the amputation finished, it brought Klaus in so close, their noses
almost touched, and squeezed Klaus’ throat, snarling the entire time as if it
enjoyed watching his life drain out of that one remaining eye.

Then it snorted a kind of animal scoff and dropped the body
next to her. Klaus’ head lolled, still attached by what remained of his spinal
column. When his sightless eye settled on her, Desiree screamed.

And the monster turned on her.

With a broken cry, Desiree scrambled to get away, terrified
to even blink while it stalked her retreat. It growled and twitched its claws,
relishing the chase, savoring her fear before it would rip into her. She tore
her gaze from it, turning onto her side to get up.

It latched onto her prosthesis, and with a sharp
twist-and-yank meant to bring her to heel, the artificial leg detached in its
claws. Desiree barely felt the pain of her wound reopening. But it brought her
head back around to the monster.

The Wolfen snarled at the contraption, bashed it on the
ground so hard, it shattered to splinters. With a renewed anger, it reached out
and caught her good ankle this time, yanking to bring her beneath it.

Desiree cowered, but morbid curiosity made her look up, and
she stared into the eyes of death. They weren’t the emotionless pits of madness
she’d seen in Klaus. No, this creature was filled with anger and hate; it
didn’t kill indiscriminately, but chose its victims with care, and now those
burnished golden orbs told her she was next. She’d had a hand in hurting it,
threatening its females, locking it away in a black cell; it knew she was
afraid, and it moved slowly, deliberately, one single claw tracing her
clavicle, leaving a thin line of blood in its wake. Without a word, the monster
promised her death would be neither quick, nor painless, and there was nothing
she could do to stop it.

A shot rang out, and the monster jerked. It turned its head
sideways, snarling a complaint.

Bang!
Another shot.

The monster reared.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

The final bullet tore through its neck and sprayed Desiree
with hot blood that ran in tiny rivulets across her cuts and scrapes. Her skin
crawled.

The monster wavered, then dropped like a sack of potatoes.

Desiree wiped her face and neck, trying to shove the dead
weight off of her at the same time. It was already morphing back, shrinking
down to the familiar shape of Aiden. Not dead. Not for long. His muscles
deflated like overfilled balloons; his claws fell off, replaced by human nails.
He was still alive, his body regenerating.

Arik rushed over to pull her out. “He’s going to wake up any
minute,” she warned, eyes roaming away from the Wolfen only long enough to look
for Frank—dead, lying face down in a pool of his own blood. “We need to get out
of here.”

Aiden’s face morphed back with a snap, crackle, and pop that
made Desiree flinch back around to keep track of his transformation. Bruises
were blooming and just as quickly dissolving into clear, tanned skin. If he
were conscious, he’d be in agony.

“Or I could just end this right now,” Arik offered, leveling
a handgun at the Wolfen. Though Aiden’s body lay still, it wasn’t done healing
yet. One by one, the bullets still lodged in him pushed out and rolled off,
holes shrinking, closing until not a hint of scar remained. Arik adjusted his
aim, rightly guessing a shot to the head would take Aiden out for good.

“No!” Out of nowhere, ten-year-old Casey came running, knife
in hand. She slashed at Arik. “Get away from him!”

“What—hey, watch it!” Arik shoved at her just enough to make
her back off.

Casey fell onto her backside and dropped her knife, but came
right back, beating at Arik and kicking his shins. “Don’t you hurt him!” the
girl screamed. “Get away!”

“Easy, tiger.”

Desiree shared a look with Arik. Neither of them had
considered the possibility of a child tagging along; they weren’t equipped for
it, especially when that child was throwing some kind of tantrum. But they
couldn’t leave her out here, either. That was a death sentence.

“Casey, stop it,” Desiree ordered. “Come on, we need to get
out of here.” Aiden could wake up any second. “We have a car! Don’t you want to
take a ride in a car?”

“I’m not going anywhere with you!” Casey punctuated her
words with slaps, alternating between hitting her and Arik. One lucky punch
caught Desiree right across her torn-up stump.

Sharp pain shot up her spine and made her see stars. “That’s
enough!” she snapped, voice raw and hoarse. “You stop this right now and come
with us, or when that monster wakes up, I’m going to let him eat y—”

“He came back for me!”

Desiree stared. “What?”

Casey, face flushed and streaked with tears, backed toward
the unconscious Wolfen, picking up her knife to protect him. “He came back and
got me. Where were you, huh?”

Arik looked at the girl as if she’d just sprouted another
head.

Desiree wasn’t so sure she hadn’t. “No, you’re confused,”
she said. “He wouldn’t have… They’re not like… He’s dangerous—”

“He’s my friend,” Casey declared. “And I won’t let you hurt
him.”

Behind her, Aiden stirred.

Arik tightened his arm around Desiree. “We need to move.
Now. Right now, Dez—
move!
”

“Wait, we can’t just leave her here!”

“We stay, somebody dies, and it’ll most likely be us.”

Aiden groaned and, without any hesitation, Casey turned her
back on them, crouching to help him sit up. Desiree couldn’t look away, torn
between fear screaming at her to run, and some foreign maternal instinct she
never knew she possessed, demanding she save the child no matter how
inconvenient.