The Wolfborne Saga Box Set

by Cheree Alsop

  “Let me go,” I said.

  Panic touched my voice. I pulled against the chains. They cut into my skin, but I barely felt it. I pulled harder. My side protested, my palms stung with the sweat that broke out across my body, and the skin of my wrists tore, but I couldn’t stop fighting.

  “Calm him down,” someone ordered.

  A hand touched my shoulder. I spun and kicked the person square in the chest. The sound of him flying across the floor would have been humorous if the situation hadn’t been so deadly. Using the chain above me as leverage, I put my feet against the wall behind me, ready to lash out at the next one who dared to put a hand on me.

  “Burn me, scar me, I don’t care,” I growled. “But you won’t kill me like some defenseless cur.”

  “We’re not going to kill you,” the voice said.

  “You probably should,” I replied. “Because when I get down from here, you’re the first one I’m coming after.”

  Silence filled the room. To my confusion, laughter followed.

  “He’s got guts; I’ll give him that. Remove the bag.” I recognized Captain Roarsh’s voice.

  The bag was pulled from my head. I squinted in the sudden brightness. Six people watched me. I recognized four of them from the test with the demon, along with the Captain and a woman with pale skin and long dark purple hair who stood with her arms crossed near the door. Her nametag said ‘Fray’. The wave of post-traumatic stress induced memories vanished. The fact that I had shown such a weakness in front of strangers filled me with bitterness. I would give them nothing else.

  “You really should wash those,” I called after the woman who walked out of the door with the halitosis-scented cloth bag in her hand.

  “Only a werewolf would complain of the smell,” the Captain said.

  I turned my gaze to him, aware that I wasn’t hiding my frustration at all.

  “You should try it sometime,” I told him. “I’ll bet even your weak little human sense of smell could pick up the stench on that one.”

  They were foolish words that I wished I could take back the moment I said them for fear of greater retaliation, but to my surprise, the Captain’s eyes crinkled at the corners with humor.

  “I’ll talk to my people about adding a cleaning step into their bagging and tagging routine,” he said.

  I knew enough of human culture to understand that tagging was slang for the toe tags put on bodies in the morgue. It was a scare tactic, one I refused to admit sent a small chill down my spine.

  I glared at him to hide any other emotion. “I’m really tired of getting tranqed,” I said. The room had stopped spinning for the most part; at least I felt as though I could stand up straight against the wall even if I wasn’t chained to it.

  “The feeling is mutual,” the Captain replied in an amiable tone. “We’re getting tired of shooting you. At least we can agree on something.”

  I kept my gaze locked on his. “I’ll bet we can agree you’d be better off without me here.”

  He nodded. “Perhaps.” He gestured to the others, dismissing everyone from the room but the man at his side. As soon as the door shut, his tone lowered. “You may think you’re going to talk your way out of this, but the only way you’re leaving is in a body bag.” His eyes bored into mine. “Your werewolf friends back in Brickwell will be quick to follow.”

  I held his gaze. “You’re bluffing.”

  He held out a hand. The man at his side reached into the pocket of his uniform and pulled out a set of pictures to hand to the Captain. As he flipped through them, my heartbeat slowed at the sight of Striker and Frost hunting in the forest in their wolf forms. In the next picture, Safira and Mitch were helping Mrs. Willard carry in groceries, and the third showed both in wolf form lounging on the lawn behind the Willards’ house.

  I gritted my teeth so hard my jaw ached as I sorted through the number of responses I wanted to say; there were several I knew would get me put in that body bag far faster than others. I finally settled on a level, “They haven’t done anything to you.”

  The Captain shrugged. “Perhaps, but werewolves are a class two security threat. Your strength alone makes you a danger to humans, not to mention the wolf instincts you’re unable to repress.”

  “Excuse me, Captain?”

  The Captain paused and looked to his side. “Yes, Jeffries?”

  The man glanced in my direction, but didn’t make eye contact. He appeared younger than the others, and there was a single stripe on the arm of his uniform instead of multiple stripes. He lowered his gaze to the ground and said, “Putting himself in danger instead of using the two women as a way to appease the rukya could be categorized as acting against his instincts.”

  The Captain’s brow furrowed. “Is that so?”

  “Y-yes, Captain,” the man replied without looking up.

  Captain Roarsh was quiet for a moment before he turned back to me. “Either way, your packmates are a threat. If you stay here and work for us, they will be protected as long as they don’t harm any humans. Try to leave this place without permission, and they’ll end up in the cadaver lab before your body’s cold.”

  The fact that they held all of the cards was seconded by the handcuffs pulled tight above my head. “Not much of a choice,” I said in a level tone.

  The Captain smiled. “It’s more than we gave the last werewolf.”

  Chapter Two

  “Wait in here. The others will join you shortly.”

  I took a seat on one of the benches in the empty room. The crisp, freshly-pressed scent of the black uniform I wore wafted around me. There were no stripes to signify rank. A single patch above my heart said Zev. The fact that I hadn’t given my name to them made my lips curl in distaste. My feet longed to be free of the thick black combat boots I had been forced to wear, and my side ached from the rough treatment I had received. I sat up straight and refused to show any sign of the pain.

  I felt completely out of my element; waiting for the unknown wasn’t my favorite thing. I couldn’t help feeling as though I had signed my life away. Yet the images of my pack in the pictures the Captain held had been sobering enough. If I walked away, escaped, or attempted to kill everyone inside the compound, they would be in danger. The fact that the personnel knew of the werewolves’ presence at all let me know just how real their threat was. I had led the werewolves out of the Lair; I refused to be the one who put them back into danger.

  A voice caught my ear. “It’s not going to be like last time. Spikes or fangs. Not both.”

  A woman’s voice asked as the door to the room opened, “But how do you know for sure?”

  “I’m playing the odds,” the man said. “Think of how many have both spikes and fangs. There’s not many.” He backed into the room and gestured with his hands as he spoke. “I can count a total of four class twos with both, and that leaves dozens without.”

  His vest was littered with knives, grenades, a pair of silver sai, spiked num-chuks, and the butts of two guns visible from the holsters at his hips. He smelled of silver, chain grease, and French fries.

  The woman who followed had short, spikey blonde hair and tattoo down her neck. She walked with the lithe grace of a hunting cat.

  “What about the class ones?” the woman pressed. “You can’t— well, hello. Who are you?” Her green eyes locked on me and she stopped with a glance at her companion. “Is this him?”

  He looked me up and down, then held out a hand. “Must be. I’m Riot and this is Serian. Welcome to the DC.”

  His smile was affable enough, but my guard was still up from my unsavory encounter with the Captain. “The DC?” I asked. I ignored his attempt to shake hands as if we were meeting on some street instead of in a compound that smelled of demons and silver.

  His expression didn’t change when he lowered his hand. “The Demon Crew,” he explained. “The best of the best.”

  Serian rolled her eyes. “We’re actually a part of the National Paranormal Task Force, Demon Divi
sion. Riot just likes the Demon Crew because he says it sounds better.”

  “It’s shorter,” I admitted, watching them both.

  “Exactly,” Riot agreed with a nod. “And the DC is a nice summary.” He pulled a knife from his vest and twirled it through his fingers effortlessly. “So what’s your name?”

  “Zev, werewolf, recently escaped from a vampire master, and most recently the slayer of a khavis singlehandedly.” The young man who spoke read from a tablet as he walked into the room. He adjusted his glasses. “Singlehandedly?” he repeated. He looked up at me. “That can’t be right.”

  “No one defeats a khavis by themselves,” Serian said. “That must be a typo.”

  “The last one we fought put two of our own in the medical ward,” Riot seconded. “You must have it wrong, Sutter.”

  “It’s not wrong. He got lucky.”

  I bristled at the tone of the young woman who followed Sutter into the room. She was the pale girl with long purple hair. My instincts tingled at her presence. I took an unconscious step back to keep my distance.

  When she spoke, my gaze locked onto her mouth. Long, slender fangs were revealed when she said, “I doubt he’ll get so lucky again.”

  A shiver ran down my spine and adrenaline filled my limbs as the warning in my mind became louder.

  “What are you?” I demanded.

  She gave a cold smile that showed her teeth even more. I had the distinct impression she did so on purpose.

  “What’s wrong, Zev? Never seen a dhampir?”

  The word jangled across my senses. I checked my periphery for a way out without taking my eyes off her, but she was standing in front of the only exit. Her eyes narrowed as if she guessed my thoughts.

  What’s wrong, werewolf? her voice asked in my mind. Not a fan of vampire progeny?

  Before I realized what I was doing, I picked up the table that stood between us. The thing was solid oak, thick enough to make half a dozen doors, and etched by years of use. With the adrenaline pounding through my veins, I barely felt its weight.

  “You will stay out of my mind,” I growled with such venom Riot and Serian took a step back.

  The dhampir’s eyes widened. She held up a hand. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I won’t do it again.”

  I felt like the monster I was. Part of me wanted to tear through them, to leave their bodies as a warning to the Captain not to mess with werewolves; the other part whispered that such a move was exactly what he expected, and I would lose whatever sick game he was playing. But regardless of the consequences, I refused to let anyone inside my head ever again. My Master was dead by my own hands, I was free of the Lair, and no one would ever control me or put thoughts into my mind if I could help it.

  I twisted and threw the table against the far wall. It tore halfway through the sheetrock to reveal the hallway beyond. The wry voice in the back of my mind noted that at least there was another way out now.

  Shame took over where the rage had been. The desperation at another voice in my head faded to leave only embarrassment. I looked from the dhampir’s unreadable gaze to the relocated table; a wave of chagrin swept over me. The adrenaline faded to leave my side aching in a way that said my actions hadn’t been great for my health.

  “I’d introduce you,” Riot said in a wry tone. “But perhaps you two have already met.”

  Footsteps sounded down the hall. The others turned, but I couldn’t break my gaze from the dhampir’s until a voice said, “I guess we know who’s taking the lead on the next mission.”

  I shifted my eyes to meet the calm gaze of an older man with curly silver hair. “Name’s Kai,” he said. He nodded at Virgo who had come in close behind. “I told you he would fit in just fine.”

  Virgo’s expression showed his doubt that a table through the wall meant fitting in. But the question in his eyes when he met my gaze made me angry instead of apologetic. He was the reason I was in the situation at all. He was the last person I would explain myself to.

  I folded my arms and regarded them silently.

  “Well,” Kai said. “I guess now’s as good a time as any to brief you all on the mission.” He nodded at the guy with glasses. “Sutter, if you will.”

  The young man pressed a button on the tablet and held it up to face the wall. A projection of the screen appeared on the painted surface.

  “South?” Serian protested. “I thought you promised warmer climates on the next mission, Kai. It’ll be raining down there.”

  He gave her a patient smile and said, “If we can get the demons to work with your temperate climate request, you’ll be the first to know.”

  “Thanks,” Serian replied dryly.

  Kai gestured toward the projection. “As you can see, a class two borgun has appeared in the swamp and is luring hikers to their deaths.”

  “Is that claws or spines?” Riot asked.

  “Please don’t say both,” I heard Serian mutter under her breath.

  “Spines,” Sutter confirmed.

  Riot pumped his arm as though he had just won something. “Told you,” he said to the girl with the spikey hair.

  She stuck her tongue out at him. “It’ll be your funeral if those spines are poisonous.”

  “They are,” Sutter said.

  Both Riot and Serian looked a bit less jovial at this information.

  “Looks like we’ve got to brush up on our immunizations,” Riot said. He twirled the knife he had yet to sheath since he entered the room.

  “Immunizations aren’t going to help with this one,” the older man told him. “It’s more of a treat if you get stabbed situation.”

  “Numbness, lethargy, and possible paralysis if you get a spine to the throat or heart,” Sutter said, reading the fine print on the screen. He glanced at the others. “I’d recommend armored vests.”

  “Recommendation taken,” Riot said. He headed toward the door.

  “Where are you going?” Fray asked.

  “Gearing up,” Riot called over his shoulder. “First one there gets the best armor.”

  Serian perked up at that and followed him out. “Let them get stabbed,” she said. “I’d rather have the bonus.”

  “There’s a bonus?” Virgo shot me an interested look. At my lack of camaraderie, he turned his enthusiasm to Kai. “What bonus?”

  “This is a job,” the older man told him. “You get paid for each successful mission. There’s a bonus if it’s done without casualties or heavy collateral damage. The less attention we bring to a paranormal crackdown, the better.”

  “Plus a free room and boarding, which means all the food you want,” Sutter told him as he put his tablet into the case at his waist. “It’s a pretty posh gig if you ask me.”

  Virgo shot me a look I didn’t meet. No one had asked me. I didn’t want him thinking he was fine to have acted without asking. He might have felt like he found us the perfect job, but a job meant the freedom to come and go; I didn’t have that liberty. I was a prisoner with a noose around the necks of my pack members.

  “I can show you where to gear up,” Sutter offered. He shot me a searching look and adjusted his glasses. The cinnamon scent of nervousness wafted from him. “Both of you, if you’d like.”

  “What do you say, Zev?” Virgo asked with a hint of his own uncertainty.

  If I had to go against a demon with poisonous spines, I knew I needed to swallow my pride and prepare the best that I could. It wouldn’t hurt to see what they had to offer.

  Relief filled the warlock’s face at my single nod. I fell in behind them and ignored the way my muscles tightened when I walked past Fray. I could feel the dhampir’s gaze on my back. It was hard to stifle my instincts that warned about having my back to her at all. I willed my fists to unclench about halfway down the hall.

  “I don’t trust him,” I heard Fray say.

  “We’re lucky to have him,” Kai replied.

  “I disagree. Give me Euless or Franc. I’d even take Wrangham at this point.”

/>   A snort was followed by, “Give him a chance. You heard what he did with the khavis.”

  “I still think that was just luck if it happened at all,” the dhampir replied in a tone of scorn. “I can’t trust him with my team.”

  “You’re going to have to with the borgun.”

  “If he ends up with enough poison to stop his heart, don’t blame me,” Fray said.

  I turned the corner and was glad to leave their conversation behind. Part of me wondered if she knew how good a werewolf’s hearing was. Had she said what she did to let me know where I stood? I didn’t care. She could keep her trust because there was no way I was putting faith into any type of vampire offspring. The very thought was sickening. Why on earth anyone would trust a creature who came as the result of a coupling between a vampire and a human was beyond me. Team or no team, I would have my own back on this one.

  The weapons room turned out to be better supplied than anything at the Lair, and the crew’s willingness to help me gear up was a little overwhelming.

  “Take another tranquilizer gun,” Sutter pressed. “The more, the merrier!”

  “You’ve got that right,” Riot agreed. He slid several more cartridges into his belt until it bristled with the same feathered ends I had been struck with a few times already.

  The unfamiliar weight of the gun in the holster strapped across my chest combined with the silver knives at my sides to set me on edge. The handles of the knives were wrapped with leather, something Riot had pointed out before giving them to me. The man’s consideration of a werewolf’s allergy to silver would have been touching if I didn’t get the feeling I was gearing up to face my own death. The looks the teammates exchanged were telling; they had fought demons before, but not a borgun.

  I soon found myself in the back of a helicopter sitting next to the strangers I was supposed to fight beside. Serian and Riot bantered over the headphones, but the rest kept quiet. I caught a glance from Fray and held it until she looked away. Virgo shot me a questioning look after that, but I ignored him. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the warlock’s hands close into fists. The runes on the backs of them glowed blue for a moment before his shoulders bowed, he let out a breath, and the light faded. Riot and Serian stopped talking after that.