Wolfen (45 page)

Desiree squeezed her eyes shut, turned her head away, too
afraid to move. Her finger tightened on the gun’s trigger. She had no idea how
many bullets she had left, prayed she could turn at least one on herself.

When he’d finished, the convert leader shook his head hard
and flung himself away, rolling around like a dog. He sneezed and huffed,
sniffed along the dirt, then froze, body tense. A low growl rose in his throat
as he slowly turned his head and looked straight at Desiree. His pupils
narrowed to pinpoints as he snarled, priming for an attack.

Desiree lifted the gun and fired, but he was faster,
slapping it back down. The bullet tore through his lung instead of his head,
and though he wheezed, bleeding profusely, he was in no way weakened or
deterred.

Displaying a terrifying level of control and higher thought,
the convert leader squeezed Desiree’s wrist until she released the gun, then
crushed the weapon in his fist, all while staring at her.

Desiree moaned and scrambled backward, while he jerked
forward, making her flinch. Then he crept a step closer, sniffing for scents.
No doubt he could smell the blood of her injury, the stench of infection, and
realize she was weakened beyond missing a limb. It made him salivate, and his
snarl turned upward at the corners, almost like a smile meant just for her.

She crawled faster, heart in her throat, elbows buckling
beneath her.

There was a screech from one of the others, and the leader
barked in answer, before he charged at Desiree. She cried out, shielding her
head and neck, when a gunshot rent the air.

The convert leader whined, his trajectory veering off to
land him in a heap at Desiree’s side, chest turned to minced meat with
buckshot. She didn’t wait for him to get back up. Dragging herself away, she
kept a wary eye on him as Aiden fired three more shots at a full run.

Desiree gaped as three converts dropped, not a single shot
wasted.

When he’d run out of bullets, Aiden tossed the gun, pulled
his machete, and charged the horde, cutting them down without mercy. He aimed
straight for their necks, severing heads clean off to make sure converts stayed
down, and he didn’t stop until the lot of them were slaughtered.

It happened so fast, Desiree forgot to breathe. When the
last of them fell, Aiden surveyed the carnage at his feet, and there was no
victory in his stance, no glorious bellow loosed to the heavens, only a slight
loosening of the tense set of his shoulders. The battle was won, but the war
was far from over.

He cut the paralyzed female down on his way to Desiree. The
leader still lay unmoving next to her, but Aiden wasn’t about to take any chances
and raised the blade to finish him off.

But just as it came down, the convert rolled into Aiden,
knocking him to the ground.

Desiree screamed his name.

The convert roared, and they fell on each other like rabid
dogs. The growls, the wet snarls, the crunch of breaking bones and flesh
tearing beneath claws—it was all too much. Desiree couldn’t take it. As strong
as Aiden was, the convert was bigger, heavier, and his bulk didn’t hinder his
speed in the least.

They broke apart, crouched low, facing off. Even fully
turned, Aiden was no physical match for the convert. Still, he hunched his
massive shoulders, and held his ground between the convert and Desiree. He was
bleeding from several wounds and a dislocated elbow popped itself back into
alignment.

The convert jerked forward, the way he’d done with Desiree,
trying to scare Aiden. But Aiden was no human. He launched forward, knocking
the convert into the tall grass where she lost sight of them.

“Move!” Casey screamed, drawing Desiree’s attention away from
the furious brawl. The girl was running toward the jeep, waving her knife.
“Move! Get away!”

“Casey, stay back!”

But she didn’t. She ran up, grabbed Desiree’s arm, trying to
drag her toward the road. “Move—now!”

The convert howled in pain, then a massive pile of charcoal
gray barreled toward them. Desiree shrieked, turning to shield Casey, as he
stopped a few feet away. He wailed as he got his bearings, then raised himself
into a crouch. One eye was missing, that whole side of his face, shredded down
to the bone.

He shook himself off and snarled at Aiden, who stood tall
and savage, machete clutched in his hand. Aiden returned the gesture and jerked
his chin, calling the convert out. He got a livid howl in response, but instead
of charging Aiden, the convert shot toward Desiree and Casey.

Desiree snatched Casey down, falling over her to shield her.
Before she squeezed her eyes shut, Desiree saw Aiden launch into the air. She
heard the impact as they slammed together, hit the asphalt; and then the
whistle of a blade slicing through air before it severed the convert’s head.

Desiree peeked out at the most horrifying creature she’d
ever known lying in a heap on the ground, then raised her awed gaze to Aiden
standing over him. He winced as his face cracked and changed back to its human
shape, braced his hands on his knees when his body shrank again to normal size.
“I leave you alone”—he gasped in a breath of air—“for five minutes!”

Aiden’s knees buckled, and he sat down hard.

“Aiden!” Casey cried, and lunged at him. She didn’t have a
scratch on her. He sighed with relief.

“Are you okay?” Desiree asked. She kept glancing at the
convert as if she was afraid he’d get back up again. Not likely, without a
head.

Aiden set Casey aside, and rolled his shoulders and neck.
His skin was healing already. The broken ribs and fractured skull would take a
few minutes, but all in all, he was in pretty good shape, considering. “I’ll
live,” he said. “Sorry to disappoint.”

She frowned. “That’s not what I meant.”

“She saved me, Aiden,” Casey said.

Aiden groaned and pushed to his feet. “Yeah? That’s good,
baby girl. Why don’t you go help her up while I get our stuff?”

Casey nodded and went.

Aiden checked the back of the jeep, sparing a moment of
silence for Arik’s remains. The vehicle was covered with shell casings. At
least the guy had put up one hell of a fight before they took him down. A brave
death. He deserved better than to be left out to rot, but Aiden didn’t have the
time to bury him properly. More converts would come, and they needed to get as
far away from here as possible.

He took the guns that still had ammo, and shouldered the
backpack.

Desiree and Casey waited for him as he finished the final
check. “Got your knife?” he asked Casey.

She nodded, and showed it to him.

“Good. And you?”

“My gun got crushed,” Desiree said. She kept upright by
holding onto Casey’s shoulder, and instead of complaining as he’d have
expected, Casey held still with a steadying arm around her.

Curiouser and curiouser. Aiden gave Desiree the smallest gun
he could find. “Keep the safety on, unless I tell you otherwise. Don’t want you
shooting anyone by accident.”

He kept an eye out for more trouble as they followed the
road toward the supplies he’d gathered.

The town of Jackpot, Nevada could hardly be called that. It
was essentially a grouping of hotels, casinos, and one lone gas station,
surrounded by a whole lot of nothing. As usual, there was good news and bad
news. The good news was the town seemed to be safe enough. Aiden hadn’t seen
evidence of any convert hives; there probably hadn’t been enough people to feed
them. More good news was that, according to the map he’d found, they were
fairly close to a river tributary, so they wouldn’t be dying of thirst. Since
it was called Salmon Falls Creek, he hoped there were still fish in it, because
he hadn’t found anything remotely edible during his hasty scavenger hunt.

And that was the bad news. No stores in town; only kitchens
and pantries emptied of produce and lacking in food with any sort of shelf
life. A couple of cans of indeterminate nature—could have been tuna, or dog
food, or mechanical grease—and a few bottles of water were all Aiden had to
show for his efforts. Precious little gas could be siphoned, but he’d found one
tiny VW Bug that still looked drivable, and he’d planned to go back to check it
out, when he heard the gunshots earlier.

Aiden glanced sideways at Desiree as they came up on the
town. All things considered, she was holding it together admirably; her cheeks
were flushed, short hair plastered to her skull with sweat, but her mouth was
set in a stubborn line and she kept on hopping.

She’d thrown herself over Casey to protect her.

Aiden never would have seen that coming.

As if she felt his gaze, Desiree looked over at him, and
Aiden quickly turned away. “How much farther?” she asked.

“Not much. We’re almost there.”

She sighed. “Good.”

Casey dubiously surveyed the buildings ahead. “We’re not
staying here, are we? It’s creepy.”

Aiden chuckled. “No, we’re just picking up a few things, and
then we’ll be moving on.”

The VW Bug and the supplies were stashed at a small
hotel-slash-casino-slash-saloon. Someone had driven the car up the porch stairs
and crashed it into the building. A lucky break, because it’d sheltered the
vehicle from the worst of the elements. The hood and the grille were dented,
but Aiden hadn’t seen much damage to the actual engine. Good old German
engineering. Flat tires, but Aiden could fix that. The battery was the bigger
question mark.

He took over for Casey by the stairs. “Go see if there are
any room keys in there,” he said, pointing out the hotel’s check-in desk. Then
he grabbed Desiree around the waist and lifted her, one-armed, to carry her up
to the porch.

“I could have made it on my own,” she complained.

“Yeah, I bet you could’ve, but we don’t got all day for you
to dick around. We need to get out of the wind—now.”

She scowled when Aiden set her down on her foot.

“And in case you were wondering—I know you weren’t but, you
know, for future reference on how human interaction is supposed to work—the
proper response to someone helping you out is ‘thank you.’”

She was about to say something when Casey came back empty
handed. “Didn’t see any keys,” she announced.

“All right, guess we do this caveman style.”

They went inside and Aiden kicked in a few of the doors,
then let Casey decide which room she liked best.

She picked a small, two-bed room with an even smaller
bathroom. It was stale and smelled moldy, but the beds were pristine and extra
pillows and blankets had been stashed in the closet.

“Stay here,” Aiden said. “I’ll go see if I can find anything
we can use around here.”

“Do you need help?” Casey asked.

“Sure do. I left some bottles and cans on the porch outside.
Think you can bring them in here?”

Casey nodded. “I’m on it.”

Aiden waited for Desiree to protest, but she just sat on the
edge of the bed, staring blankly at the carpet, oblivious to the world at
large. “Hey,” he said. “You still with us?”

Desiree blinked up at him, and nodded listlessly.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing. I’m fine.”

“Don’t lie to me. I can tell something’s not right. How bad
is it?”

She sighed. “My wound got infected.”

Aiden swore. “Let me see.”

She brushed him off. “It can wait. You need to go find us
something to eat. That’s the best medicine I can get right now.”

Aiden didn’t like this. He still needed her to keep Casey
safe until they reached the den. Once Casey had come back with the bottles, he
opened one for Desiree. “Drink,” he ordered.

She gulped down half of the bottle before she came up for
air.

Aiden pushed it right back to her mouth. “All of it. You
too, Casey.”

“Already had one,” she replied, wiping her brow.

“Good. I want you to keep an eye on her until I get back.
Can you do that?”

Casey nodded. “I’ll make sure she doesn’t wander.”

“That’s my girl.” Aiden attempted a smile, then stared
Desiree down. “Stay in bed and don’t move. You hear trouble, you fire that gun
to let me know. Got it?”

“Fine, fine.” She waved him off. No arguing, no scathing
retorts…? Oh, yeah, this was bad.

Aiden looted the hotel first. A couple of rooms had been
occupied when people bugged out, and he took some suitcases with clothes in
them to their room to let Casey sort through it all. The casino was useless to
his purposes, but the saloon still had a full stock of alcohol, lighters, and
sharp paring knives. He brought all of those back, before heading out a third
time to widen his search.

Jackpot was a ghost town. Not a disaster zone like some
others he’d been through, just…emptied, as if the residents had all gone on a
day trip one morning and never came back. No garbage in the streets, no broken
windows, no crashed cars—except the Beetle—and no signs of violence whatsoever.
Casey was right. It was creepy as hell. Aiden imagined eyes watching him from
every window; people hiding with guns behind closed doors, waiting for the
threat to pass. It made him edgy.

He made a straight trajectory toward the one place he hadn’t
checked yet.

In terms of medical facilities, the best Jackpot had to
offer was a community health center a half-mile from the hotel. It was tiny,
but well-stocked with basic medical supplies. Aiden stuffed a trash bin with
everything that would fit, barely glancing at the labels. There were cabinets
still filled with first aid supplies, bandages, ointments, syringes, and suture
kits. He took all of that, too. Another one held medications in pill and liquid
forms, including a box of asthma inhalers. Unlikely any of it was usable so
long after the expiration date, but Desiree would be able to tell better. He
piled it all into the bin, adding a small stack of paper patient robes, then
grabbed a ten-gallon bottle of water he found stashed under the reception desk,
and called it a day.

Back at the hotel, he paused outside the room, listening to
the womenfolk.

“Is this a hair thing?” Casey asked.

“I don’ think you wanna put that on your head,” Desiree
slurred. Aiden rolled his eyes. He hadn’t brought back three bottles of whiskey
for her to down them on her own.

“Why, what’s it for?”

Desiree sighed. “Jus’ put it down. You got plenty of stuff
to play with already.”

Aiden went in. Casey sat on the floor, sorting through
clothes she’d piled into categories and wearing an oversized pink thong around
her neck. Desiree sprawled over one of the beds, staring at the ceiling and
cradling a whiskey bottle against her side. A good quarter of the amber liquid
was already gone.

“Five minutes, woman. I left for five minutes.”

“And now you’re back!” Desiree giggled. “You missed the
toast. We were sayin’ farewell to Arik. But we can do it again.” She took
another swig, coughing.

Aiden shook his head.
Unbelievable
. He took the thong
off of Casey. “You are way too young to be wearing anything like this. Did you
find stuff in your size?”

“No,” she grumbled. “It’s all grown-up stuff.
Way
grown
up. I didn’t know people could grow that big.” She held up a T-shirt that could
easily serve as a tent for her. “Will I get that big someday?”

“I doubt it,” Aiden retorted, and took the T-shirt from her.
“Come on.” He brought the water bottle over to the next room. There, in the
bathroom, he poured some into the small bin underneath the sink, then waved
Casey over. “Here,” he said. “That’s your bath. Make it count, yeah? You’ve got
soap over there, towels on the rack. Just scrub the dirt off and put on the
shirt.”

“It’s too big, though.”

“It’ll have to do for now. We can wash clothes later.”

He left her to it and went back to Desiree, pouring more
water for her to wash with. “Think you can manage a sponge bath?” he asked.

Desiree pulled herself up to sit, swayed, and nodded
drunkenly.

Aiden rolled his eyes and helped her into the bathroom,
sitting her down onto the toilet. “I’ll get you some clothes.” Desiree wasn’t
much bigger than Casey. Painfully skinny as she was, everything in those
suitcases could wrap around her twice. He selected a Hawaiian-print shirt and a
pair of stretchy pants that might hold up with a belt, and left them in a pile
for her before turning back to the mess scattered around the room.

He shook his head at the selection. His choices were reduced
to leopard print and ripped up jeans. Though he loathed the thought of that
god-awful garishness on his person, the clothes he was wearing were now little
more than rags, so he picked out a black novelty T-shirt that read VENI, VIDI,
NAILED THAT BITCH in bold, white font, and some cut off jeans several sizes too
big, and took them with the rest of the water to an adjoining room for a bath
of his own.

At least the soap smelled decent. He scrubbed off the worst
of the dirt and the dried blood, making good use of as little water as
possible. In minutes he was finished, and he stuffed the dirty clothes into the
toilet, then closed the lid. Better to burn them, but this would have do for
now.

When he came out into the hall, he heard Casey singing to
herself, and smiled. Satisfied she was okay on her own, he returned to the main
room and Desiree, and stopped dead in his tracks.

There were no working lights in the hotel. The only
illumination was sunlight coming through the windows, so Desiree had to keep
the bathroom door wide open to see anything. Perching on the very edge of the
toilet, she leaned down to wet a washcloth, then swept it up her arm to her
bare shoulder. She was naked from the waist up, vertebrae poking out of her
spinal column, ribs tenting her skin like a xylophone.

But it was the scars that stopped him short. Two long,
parallel lines stretched from her left shoulder to right hip. Lash marks.

One moment, he was standing by the bed; the next, he
crouched at her back. She gasped, crossing her arms over her chest. “What—”

“Who did this?” he asked, tracing the scars.

She shivered beneath his touch. “Klaus,” she said shortly,
bitterly, twisting away from him.

“Why?” He turned her back so he could see better.

She tried to shrug him off. “Punishment. Stop touching me.”

He didn’t. “Punishment for what?”

“For
accidentally
knocking over his prized Nazi
ceramics.”

Aiden’s hand slid down to her elbow, and he frowned. It was
warped. “And this?”

“I refused to go up a flight of stairs in my new prosthesis.
He dragged me up by the arm, broke my elbow in the process. Compound fracture,
dislocation.” She ducked her head, rubbing self-consciously at her scalp.
Naturally, he looked there next and found another scar at least two inches long
to the right of her hairline. She sighed. “I got in trouble for breaking a
beaker,” she said, without him having to ask. “He shoved me around, I hit my
head on a glass shelf, and broke it. Shattered ten more beakers in the
process.”