“Have you found Kiona Brokentooth yet?” Paul asked. He saw Fenris’s jaw clench just a bit at mention of the name. Had Kiona betrayed him as well as Ulrik?
“You seem to know a great deal about my affairs, Mr. Danvers. Maybe too much for your own good.”
“Know thine enemy,” Paul offered.
“Quoting your own mythology now?” Fenris said, smiling again. “I’m getting tired of asking you the same question, Mr. Danvers. How did you find me?”
“Would you believe dumb luck?”
“No.” Fenris’s eyes flicked from Paul to Walter Hess.
The giant started around the foot of the bed. Paul waited until the corner of the bed would not be a factor, then turned into a solid stance and delivered a perfect spear-hand to Hess’s throat. Hess backed away, his hands going to his throat as he gasped for breath. Paul lashed out with his left leg in a side-thrust kick and heard the crunch of Hess’s right knee breaking. The giant went down.
Paul looked to Fenris, expecting to see the legendary silver wolf springing toward him, but the man in black remained seated, his face set. The only difference was that he now held a small revolver in his hand. The barrel of the gun was casually pointed in Paul’s direction.
“Impressive,” Fenris said. “Sit down.”
“Why?” Paul demanded. “If I rush you know, you’ll put a silver bullet in me and it’ll be over. If I don’t, I’ll end up tortured and skinned. Either way, you’ll get nothing from me, but I know which end I prefer.”
He lunged at Fenris, letting his shape change as he did, hoping for one good swipe at the man before he died. The impact of the bullet against his chest was a solid punch, but it didn’t completely stop his momentum. He’d been shot before, but not like this. There was an aftershock that dropped him to his knees on the white carpet. Paul’s hand went to his chest, covering the bloody wound.
“The silver burns instantly,” Fenris explained. “Your body tries to fight it, but it just can’t. The silver gets into your blood and travels through your system very quickly. Every beat of your heart now brings death a little closer. Tell me, Mr. Danvers, does it hurt?”
It hurt. There was fire in his veins. Paul thought he could actually feel the poisoned blood moving through his body, filling him with burning agony. He maintained his composure, though.
“You’ve lost it all, Fenris,” Paul said. “The Indian woman has double crossed you just like she did us. The Alpha will never be yours.”
Fenris uncrossed his legs and stood up. He came to stand over Paul, reached down and hooked his fingers in the dying man’s nostrils so that he had to look up at him. “The boy will never be Alpha. He and the Indian bitch will die soon enough. Just like you. I’ll ask you one more time: How did you find me? Answer now and I’ll end the misery you’re feeling.”
The pain had reached his head. Paul’s vision began to darken. He stuttered when he tried to speak. “I w-w-w-will n-n-not cure y-your inc-c-c-ompetence.”
He was blind, but not deaf. He heard the sound of Fenris’s black clothes ripping as the man became a wolf. Then there was the feeling of two huge, deformed claw-like hands on either side of his head, pulling, as the wolf-man roared in rage.
Then there was nothing, and it was quiet for Paul Danvers. But those still alive in Fenris’s house trembled at the sound of his fury.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Steven E. Wedel lives in central Oklahoma with his wife and most of his kids … the ones who haven’t grown up enough to leave the den yet, anyway. He began writing in the mid-1980s and has kept at it despite numerous disappointments and setbacks. Steve has a bachelor’s degree in journalism from the University of Central Oklahoma and a master’s degree in liberal studies from the University of Oklahoma. He has worked as a machinist, bookseller, stock clerk, journalist, public relations specialist and is now a high school English teacher most of the year.
Visit him online at www.werewolfsaga.com.
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