by Val Tobin
Rachel gave Hound Dog time to get into position. She checked the time on the watch she’d scavenged from the abandoned house. Eight o’clock. A creature of habit, her father rarely arrived home from the office before nine at night on a weekday.
Marne also had her habits. Tonight, she’d be at her book club meeting, fortunately. Rachel held no ill will toward her stepmother. Whatever Stefan had done, he’d done before he’d met his second wife. The possibility that Rachel’s real mother may not have been so innocent made Rachel uneasy, but she shoved aside such fears. The monsters her father had created slaughtered her mother. If she’d had any knowledge of, or hand in, their creation, she’d paid for it with her life.
All remained quiet. The air chilled to below zero as the sun went down, and she and Hound Dog would have been freezing if they hadn’t found warm clothing at the abandoned house. Much of what they’d found had been overrun by rodents. They shook out the mouse crap and put them on. Hopefully, they wouldn’t get the plague or whatever diseases mice carried these days.
Fewer items were available for Hound Dog due to his height and bulk, but they’d found an oversized winter coat he could wear. Doubly fortunate for Dog since it had started snowing—a light, fluffy snow that obscured the sky and coated the grass.
After another fifteen minutes, Rachel followed her partner’s trail to the five-car garage at the side of the house. At first, she couldn’t find him.
Kudos to Dog.
She stayed in place, scouring the shadows, and finally spotted him ten metres from the garage entrance. He’d have to get closer than that—they both would—but the cameras watched. She’d told him where each one was, and as long as her father hadn’t added more, they should be all right. Rachel crept to the side of the garage opposite to where Hound Dog crouched and settled in to wait.
***
At precisely 21:05, the electronic gates opened and headlights lit up the driveway. Rachel huddled farther down into the bushes behind which she hid and prepared to run as soon as the car slid into the open bay. Hound Dog likely did the same at his end. For a big guy, he was nimble, and she trusted he’d make it into the garage before the door closed. Once they went inside, she didn’t care if the cameras picked them up. The moment her father stepped from the car, the game they played would level up.
The car paused in front of the garage, and the door rose in a slow, steady glide. As the sleek, new Jaguar eased inside, Rachel ducked in alongside the back doors, keeping below the level of the side mirror. She sensed rather than saw Hound Dog slip in on the other side.
The car stopped.
The garage door started its descent.
The driver’s door opened.
Overhead, lights flicked on and the garage door thunked closed.
“Freeze, fucker.” Hound Dog had his gun levelled at Stefan by the time Rachel made it around the front of the car.
She raised her weapon and trained it on her father. Pain throbbed beneath the bandages wrapped around her, but she ignored it—no, she welcomed it. It reminded her this man was responsible for the damage done to her body. She could have been mutilated or killed in the ring, and her father had put her there. Hatred for him coursed through her, and she mustered all her self-control to not pull the trigger and obliterate the face at the end of the barrel.
“Rachel. How nice to see you.” Stefan fixed his gaze on his daughter, ignoring Hound Dog as if he were inconsequential. “I assumed you’d be long gone by now.”
Dog reminded their prisoner of his presence with a quick elbow jab to the gut, and Stefan doubled over, air rushing audibly from his lungs. They stood over him and waited while he caught his breath and steadied himself with a hand to the Jag.
When he could finally speak, he said, “Dog.” The single word dripped with contempt. “Classy as ever.”
“We’re going for a ride, and you’re driving. Get back in the car.” Hound Dog wagged his gun at the car and then turned it back on Stefan.
“Where we going?” Stefan’s tone was mild, conversational. No trace of nerves or fear leaked through his façade. Perhaps, he believed she didn’t have it in her to hurt him or to allow anyone else to hurt him.
Better set him straight before he did something stupid such as tackle Hound Dog. “One false move, Dad, and I’ll shoot you. Get in the car.”
Stefan reached for the door handle but paused. “Rachel, we can work this out.” His voice soothed, reminding her of days long gone when he’d sit on her bed and tell her bedtime stories. He only knew one—at least, that was what he’d claimed. But she didn’t mind hearing it night after night from the time she was two until she turned four.
“I don’t know how it all turned so bad.” He dropped his hand and made as if to reach out to her.
Rachel and Hound Dog steadied their weapons, their expressions turning cold.
“The car, Dad.”
“Hear me out.” But he dropped his hand again. “What happened to you, princess?”
She swallowed, the old nickname catching her off guard, and stared at him. Her body had gone numb, not even the pain able to cut through the haze that settled even into her brain.
What’s he talking about? He threw me into the grendel ring.
Her silence encouraged him to keep talking. “We should be a team, you and me. You should be my right hand.” He gave her a sad smile, one filled with longing and regret. “Why didn’t you work with me when I offered you the chance? What have I done to deserve your hatred? Rachel, we’re family. You’re my girl …”
“Dad,” she eked out in a whisper. Clearing her throat, she said, “You hurt us—me, Mom … Jeff.” Especially Jeff. She tried to compose her thoughts, letting the silence draw out.
What does he want from me? He did all this. He’s responsible. She had to remember that. He lied. He always lied.
She glanced at Hound Dog. He stood, silent and wary, his gun still at the ready in case he had to use it. Doubtless, he would if need dictated. He never flinched from necessary action. Their gazes met for a moment across the metres separating them, and it was all she needed. He had her back, and together, they had Peter’s back—Peter, who even now might be dead. Because of her father. If she lost sight of that, she was a fool.
“Get in the car, Stefan.” She refused to call him Dad ever again.
Without another word, he opened the door and climbed in, Hound Dog slipping into the back seat at the same moment. Rachel went around the other side and got into the passenger seat.
“Let’s go,” she said to her father. “I’ll tell you where when we’re on the road.”
Chapter Forty-Five
On the ride to Stefan’s research facility, Rachel attempted to question him, but he refused to respond, saying only that she was making a mistake. When she asked him about Peter, he shrugged and said Peter assisted with experiments in the lab.
Nothing she said affected her father. Appealing to his humanity brought no result. Why would it? He’d lost his humanity when he created the grendels. He had no empathy, or he’d never have done any of what he’d done.
Had he ever loved his family? She’d never seen him cry over losing his wife. When Rachel had confronted him about Jeff’s death, he’d shown no emotion. He’d caused both those deaths and showed no remorse.
When they arrived at the gates, she directed Stefan to drive on through to his personal parking space. As his daughter and former employee, she was familiar with the layout of the underground parking and the route Stefan took to his office. They’d use his high-level security to gain entry into the building and get to the lab via a route that bypassed the main lobby and the security guard station. As long as Stefan did nothing to alert security, they should make it to the lab and recover Peter. If all went well, they could be in and out in half an hour.
As they exited the vehicle, Rachel and Hound Dog avoided looking up at the cameras. They kept their guns holstered under their coats so they appeared to accompany rather than coerce Stefan. A
guard in the control room always monitored the cameras, and the thought of it made Rachel’s back itch, but she kept her stride casual and walked beside her father. Hound Dog strolled a few paces behind them.
Progress was slower than she would’ve liked, but at last, they arrived at the corridors where the labs resided and the scientists did the bulk of their practical research. Stefan halted before the doors Rachel had failed to breach when she’d tried to access the lab after Jeff’s death.
“You can’t go in.” He faced her, again ignoring Hound Dog as if he didn’t exist. His expression stayed neutral, but his hands had curled into fists. “You’re not cleared for it. It’s for your safety.”
“Funny, you never mentioned that before.”
“I hoped we wouldn’t get this far.”
That meant he’d expected security to stop them. “If security shows up, you’ll tell them to clear us. The door, Stefan. Unlock it.”
He pressed his thumb to the pad, and when the light changed from red to green, he punched in the numbers. Locks clicked and slid open. Hound Dog pushed open the doors and led them through. Stefan paused in the open door, blocking her path.
“Move it,” Rachel said, her tone flat and low.
“Are you sure you want to do this? You should’ve run, Rachel. You’ll never make it out of here.”
He was awfully talkative all of a sudden. Uneasy, she shoved him through and shut the door behind them.
The corridor dead-ended about twenty metres down at a set of double doors. Beyond that stretched a block of rooms set up for a variety of purposes. Rachel didn’t know where to begin the search.
“Take us to Peter,” she ordered.
When he hesitated, she made her voice low and threatening but kept her expression mild and pleasant. “Move. To wherever you’re holding him. Now.”
Did he stall to delay revealing what had happened to Peter or because he expected pursuit—or an ambush? How could he? He’d had no chance to alert anyone. She watched him carefully. He’d made no surreptitious signals to the security cameras. His pace had remained unhurried as he walked beside her. Nothing in his manner had betrayed anxiety or fear.
It made her uneasy. He’d been too cool on the ride here, and now, he’d gotten talkative and reluctant.
“Walk,” she said, maintaining a steady voice. “Show us the way. And if Peter’s not in the room we enter, we’ll search the place ourselves, and I don’t guarantee we won’t shoot any grendels we find. We only want Peter.”
Stefan continued walking, his pace slow but steady. He headed to another set of double doors, again using his thumb and an access code to get them in. Hound Dog pushed through the doors, Stefan next, Rachel taking up the rear. This time, Stefan didn’t pause in the doorway but led them at once to one of the two doors on the left. Yet again, he used his thumb and the access code to gain entry.
As they followed Rachel’s father into the lab, an agonized howl rent the silence and made them freeze. Hound Dog, a step ahead of Rachel, already drew his weapon to ready when Rachel reached for hers. He ducked to the left while Rachel went right.
Stefan stood, unfazed, a few paces inside the room. While the unholy shriek had curdled Rachel’s blood and left her shaking, Stefan calmly walked toward the cages at the back of the room.
Inside one cage, a grendel leaped and snarled. It had scented them and already drooled at the prospect of fresh meat. In the other cage, Peter huddled on a cot. He’d looked up when they walked in, and the faraway look in his eyes told Rachel he hadn’t recognized her or Hound Dog. He dropped his forehead to the arm he used to cradle his knees.
“Stop, Dad,” Rachel said, remembering as soon as she spoke her vow to never call him that again.
He halted midway into the room, stopping beside a desk that held a computer, a pile of papers, and an assortment of hardcover books.
She hurried to where he stood. “Touch nothing. Dog, cover him while I check on Peter.” Without waiting for a reply, she hurried the rest of the way to the cages, keeping as far away from the grendel cage as possible.
The grendel threw itself at the cage’s bars the closer she got to it, but she ignored the snarls, the thrashes, and the reaching arms.
“Peter,” she cried, her voice choking.
He raised his head from his arm, his eyes at first vacant.
“It’s me—Rachel.”
Recognition dawned and tears streamed from his eyes. “Rachel. I can’t take it anymore.”
“We’re here—me and Dog. We’re getting you out. Where do they keep the keys?” A padlock hung from the latch on the door and she scanned the room, searching for a hook or somewhere obvious where they might store a keyring. Perhaps in the desk. She covered the ground in two long-legged strides and began rooting through drawers.
“Where’s the key, Stefan?” she asked.
His gaze roved around the room, his expression curious, as if this were the first time he’d ever had to think of keys. After a moment, he shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m not the one who opens these cages.” A smirk appeared on his face, his enjoyment at the predicament evident.
Rachel cursed and picked up the pace, searching for either keys that might open the padlock or something with which to cut the lock. She found a ring with three keys on it. “Dog, see if one of these works.”
“Cover him,” he said, indicating Stefan, and snatched the keys from her hand.
“Glad to.” She levelled the gun at her father and said, “Don’t move. We’ll be out of here soon.”
“We? Just want to clarify.”
“The three of us. You can take Peter’s place in the cage.”
“It’s not too late, Rachel. Work with me. This can all be yours. You have no idea how far our research has come—the good we can do for mankind.”
“Knock it off, you psycho Frankenstein wannabe. I can’t be bought. Nothing you offer will compensate for the horrors you’ve caused. I don’t care if you bring Jesus back in a second coming. You’ve destroyed thousands of lives already with these monsters. However they evolve, nothing will make up for the damage you’ve done.”
“I didn’t mean to hurt anyone. Do you think I wanted your mother to die?”
“Honestly? I don’t know.”
Hound Dog interrupted them with a cry of triumph. He opened the door to Peter’s cage, stepped inside, and helped Peter to his feet.
“Can you walk?”
Peter croaked out a “yes,” but when he tried to take a step, he grimaced in pain.
“Lean on me,” Hound Dog said.
Together, they hobbled from the cage, but before they could take another step, the door to the lab burst open. Pattenden and two security guards from the facility rushed in.
“About fucking time,” Stefan snapped.
“Freeze,” Pattenden ordered.
Rachel fired her weapon at her former captain and threw herself to the floor as Hound Dog shoved Peter to the ground beside her.
“Cover me,” Hound Dog hollered and made for the grendel cage. In her periphery, Rachel saw him fiddling with the lock.
Rachel rose to a crouch, and even as her father shouted at everyone to hold their fire, she put a bullet into Pattenden’s shoulder, knocking her backward. Rachel then took aim at the guard to the captain’s right at the same moment he turned his weapon on her. The grendel leaped through the open cage door and attacked the nearest unvaccinated human: Hound Dog.
Chapter Forty-Six
The guard’s gun fired, but the bullet skimmed over Rachel’s head as she ducked. Her shot also went wide. Hound Dog knocked the grendel away with a punch to the creature’s solar plexus and an upward and outward thrust of his arm. The beast flew into Stefan.
Untrained in the art of grendel combat, Stefan tried to twist away but screamed when the starving creature clamped razor teeth into his shoulder. The creature gnawed and chewed on the shoulder, his victim screaming in rage and pain. Before the guards, Pattenden, or even Rachel, the one closes
t to the skirmish, could react, it released the shoulder and tore into Stefan’s throat.
Hound Dog hadn’t been idle while everyone else had frozen in place. He used the precious seconds to reach the guards and now tussled with one of them. Blood leaking from her shoulder, Pattenden crawled toward the gorging grendel, her gun raised but trembling in her hands.
Rachel ran to help Hound Dog, shouting at Peter to get out of the room. The grendel would ignore him—his vaccines were obviously up to date since he coexisted peacefully near the grendel’s cage—but the guards and Pattenden wouldn’t hesitate to at least shoot to wound. He tried, but whatever he’d endured in that cage had affected him, and he staggered and fell as soon as he got to his feet.
“Crawl if you have to,” Rachel shouted, and then forgot about Peter as the second guard, a burly woman who looked like she could hold her own in the grendel ring, swung a fist at Rachel.
A weapon fired and she glanced over in time to see Pattenden take another aim at the grendel. The sound of the weapon firing had attracted the creature’s attention along with Rachel’s, and he stopped his feast and turned on the captain. She fired again, but Rachel couldn’t spare another glance in that direction. The guard she wrestled took all her focus.
They tumbled to the ground, rolling, Rachel struggling to maintain dominance and pin her opponent, the guard sweating and panting. Of the two, Rachel was more willing and skilled at fighting dirty. She’d wrestled grendels and won, week after week, and she refused to let this guard, built like a cave troll though she was, beat her. Rachel dug her fingers into the woman’s eyes, and the fight ended.
The guard howled and released her hold on Rachel, and she seized the moment to knock the woman out with an uppercut. Rachel then leaped up and swung around, searching for Hound Dog or Peter.