by Julie Frost
“Lips are sealed.” She pulled him up to a sitting position, and he rested his forehead on her shoulder for a second before kissing her cheek and giving her a weak smile. “Eat the rest of your sandwich,” she said. “I’ll go down and see what everyone’s doing.”
She left him chewing on a mouthful of turkey and bacon, but stopped around the corner of the stairs out of sight of anyone to lean against the wall and just breathe for a couple of minutes. Dammit to hell. He was totally back to being fragile. The stress lines around his eyes, which had disappeared when he’d been vamped, had returned. She hadn’t noticed them before because they’d always been there, since that first night at the veterans’ dinner, but they were back with a vengeance and she wanted to scream and throw things.
If she ever saw Ostheim again—
She stopped. It might actually be likely, considering the fact that she worked for a high-end caterer and she’d seen him at several functions over the last few years.
Great.
She clattered the rest of the way down the stairs into the lab, where Alex peered through a microscope, McFoucher dissected a rabbit, Megan tapped on a tablet, and Doc Allen pored over a file.
“We need to deal with Ostheim. Sooner rather than later,” Janni said.
Alex looked up, startled by her vehemence. “Why? One of the conditions I set before helping him this morning was that he’d leave us all strictly alone.”
“You and I will see him at parties. You because of who you are, and me because of who I work for.” She put her fists on her hips. “And maybe you like walking around on eggshells when you’re working, but I don’t, and suppressing the urge to rip his friggin’ face off will be difficult at best, at least for me.”
“Feeling a little wolfy aggression?” Megan asked sympathetically from the couch.
“The son of a bitch messed with my mate.” Janni raked her fingers through her hair. “So, yeah. More than a little.”
“Interesting. Mind if I get a blood sample?” Alex said.
“You sure you didn’t let Idna vamp you? All this fascination with our blood …” She was half-smiling as she said it, though.
He grinned back at her. “Pretty sure. One from Ben might be useful, too.”
Her smile disappeared. “That … might be a problem. He’s not—” She stopped and shook her head, her sentences coming out in a staccato sequence. “I’m not sure he’ll be okay with that anymore. Since you de-vamped him. He’s back to like he was before. With the nightmares.”
Alex digested this. “Oh. I bet that’s what he meant when he—damn. When I left him sleeping on the couch, I should have come to get you, I guess.”
“You didn’t know.” She sat down beside Megan on the sofa. “Hell, I didn’t know until I heard him make a noise.” Jerking her chin at his computer, she asked, “You any closer?”
He shook his head and gestured at the dead rabbit McFoucher was working on. “Sorry. Lycanthropy gets right into the DNA, and getting it out has been … well. Lethal.”
“Fab.” She stuck her arm out. “You really want some blood? Will it help?”
“Maybe. Can’t hurt.” Alex got up and grabbed a fresh pack of vacuum vials and a sterile hypodermic.
“I thought the nanotech repaired damage on a cellular level,” she said as he stuck the needle in her vein.
“It does. But it doesn’t recognize the lycanthropy as ‘damage,’ so it doesn’t see anything to repair.” He slid the needle back out and folded her elbow over a cotton ball. “It’s alien, but it’s not damage. And it gets integrated so well that neither the body nor the tech recognizes it as ‘alien’ either.”
Megan’s phone rang, and she looked at it and cringed. “It’s Ostheim. Should I take it or let it go to voicemail?”
Alex held his hand out, and Janni held her breath. “I’ll take it,” he said.
O O O
Alex forced himself to relax as he answered the phone. “Hey, Ostheim. How’s she doing?”
The man’s voice was slurred; he sounded as if he’d been drinking. “What did you do to her, you bastard?”
A cold fist of dread clenched around Alex’s stomach. “I tried to cure her. Why?”
“She crumbled to dust and bones in my arms three hours ago,” Ostheim growled. “And the usual methods of bringing her back were futile. So I can’t help but think, Jarrett, that you did something to cause her demise.”
“Sure,” he shot back, “because I want you to have even more reason to be pissed at me than you already did.” That was his mouth getting ahead of his brain again, which probably wasn’t useful.
Everyone else in the room was staring at him in various states of horrified fascination.
“You said it worked on Lockwood.”
“It did. He’s upstairs, right now, eating a sandwich.” Alex blew his hair out of his eyes. “I also said that it might not work on Idna for all kinds of reasons. I gave you my Full Disclosure Speech.” Shit. “Hans, I’m sorry, okay? I am. But I did my best.”
“I don’t think you did. Your best. I think you went at it half-assed and half-drunk, and used half-measures.” Something shattered against a hard surface, a wall or the floor, on the other end of the line. “And it cost Idna her life.”
“You were standing right there. Think back on what we did and then tell me you still want to call that a half-measure.”
“I want—” Ostheim stopped, and started again. “I think you knew it wouldn’t work and that you went ahead on purpose because you knew it would kill her. You wanted to kill her.”
Well, he kind of had wanted to kill her, and Ostheim too, because of what they’d done to Ben, but he hadn’t set out to, because that wasn’t what he did. “If I ever decide to stab you in the back, Ostheim, I’ll do it from the front. And I won’t use your loved ones or employees to get to you.”
“You want to see me coming, Jarrett? Fine. Consider this your warning.” Every word held menace; somehow the fact that Ostheim was growling them quietly was more disturbing than if he’d been shouting. “I’m coming for you. And I don’t care who I have to go through to do it.”
Chapter Twenty
With a click, the “call ended” screen filled the phone, and Alex handed it back to Megan. “He’s on his way over to kick my ass. Can we fit him between my six and six-thirty appointments? Oh, never mind, that’s right, I cleared my schedule for the week.”
Megan was all wide-eyed alarm. “Alex …”
“Anyone wants to leave, now would be the time.” Alex methodically checked his Beretta and re-filled the half-empty magazine with silver bullets, making sure he had one in the chamber, before settling it firmly in his waistband. “Janni, let Ben know.”
“On it,” she said, running upstairs.
“Shouldn’t we call the police?” Megan said, her eyebrows crawling up her forehead.
“And tell them what? I tried to cure a vampire, ended up killing her instead, and her werewolf husband is coming after us to exact his vengeance? They should come armed with silver and wolfsbane?” He shook his head. “I don’t care how much I donate to the Widows and Orphans, they’ll dismiss it as a crank.”
“But …”
“There’s been enough people hurt because of this. The legal system isn’t equipped to deal with werewolves. Really, Miss Graham.” He gave her a tender look, one he hoped didn’t reveal too much. “You should go home. This isn’t your fight.”
“Oh, no, you’re not getting rid of me that easily.” She stood up and fisted her hands on her hips. “Your fight is my fight, and someone has to be around to pick up the pieces when it all goes to crap.”
“Which you are very good at.” He rose and rested his hands on her shoulders. “But I want you out of the line of fire. The house can be closed off in sections. Lock yourself in the panic room, armed, and don’t let anyone in unless it’s one of us.” She opened her mouth to object, and he put a finger over her lips. “I mean it, Megan.”
She took a dee
p breath and let it out slowly. “You … are an incorrigible, incorrigible man.”
“And I thank you for reminding me about that on a daily basis.” He nudged her toward the stairs. “Go.”
She went, but stopped at the curve before disappearing around it. “Alex? Don’t die.”
Too many things unsaid, that might never be said, and all he could think of, as his mouth twisted up on one side, was, “Haven’t yet.”
She closed her eyes briefly before continuing up the stairs, and he listened for the sound of her impossibly high heels long after he couldn’t hear them anymore.
He turned back to the lab. “What about you guys? Totally not blaming you if you take off. I’d take off myself if I thought he wouldn’t hunt me down.”
Ben and Janni came down arm in arm, followed by Chambliss. “I’m not going anywhere,” Ben said. “The bastard has it in for me, too. We should finish it here and now. It’s not like he’ll stop.”
Alex nodded. “All right.”
“If he’s staying, I’m staying,” Janni said.
“Aw, honey, no …” Ben started.
She lifted her chin. “I’m a werewolf, too, and I can shoot as well as you can.”
“But.” Ben held her head and rested his forehead on hers. “You haven’t learned how to turn the wolf on and off yet. And I don’t—” He stopped and took a shaky breath. “He’d use you against me. And I can’t watch another woman I love die. Just. Can’t.”
“Oh.” Janni looked stricken for a moment. “All right,” she said, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. “I’ll sit it out with Megan, but I’m not leaving.”
He pulled her to him, and Alex could see him shaking. “Stay safe.”
“Hey, you’re the one fighting the crazy werewolf. Don’t take any stupid chances.” She grabbed him by the head and kissed his lips, then turned to Alex. “One piece, Alex. You give him back to me in one piece.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Alex said solemnly. He’d do his best.
Janni followed Megan’s path up the stairs, only backwards, eyes locked on Ben for as long as possible.
Ben made a sound in his throat when she disappeared around the bend, and he stumbled to an office chair and collapsed into it. “Hell,” he said ferociously into his hands.
“Probably need a doctor, after,” Doc Allen said through a stream of smoke. “I’ve never been too good with firearms, so I’ll stay with the womenfolk. Dr. McFoucher? Staying or going?”
“I shot Idna in the heart with the adrenaline, so I’m betting Ostheim blames me as much as he blames Alex. Especially since my first cure failed, and I’m now working for the enemy.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “I’d rather face him here surrounded by other people than at home with nothing but an elderly dachshund for protection.”
“Upstairs, then.” Alex turned to his butler as they left. “Chambliss, could you get them some guns, please? And make sure the maids and gardeners and other help have all gone home. You can go, too.”
“I already took the liberty of sending everyone away, sir, and I’m not going anywhere,” Chambliss said with dignity. “As I mentioned a few days ago, I’ve not always been a butler, and I have some skills you might find valuable in this situation. I also alerted Jeremy, who is out doing a perimeter sweep as we speak.”
Alex felt wholly inadequate, undeserving of the loyalty these people were showing him. His legs went wobbly, and he fell into his chair and wished, fiercely, for a scotch. Maybe if they all lived through this …
Chambliss pressed a cup of coffee he’d conjured from somewhere into his hand. “Drink that, sir, and then follow me. I have some items of interest for you.”
A few minutes later, Alex found himself blinking in front of a hidden storage room with a veritable arsenal inside, stacked neatly on racks and pegs. “Where did I get all these guns?” Some of them—hell, most of them—weren’t legal in the state of California, he was sure.
Ben gazed into the closet with an expression akin to lust. He was nearly smiling.
“If I told you that, sir …”
“You’d have to kill me, I know.”
“Perhaps just maim you slightly,” Chambliss said with a glint in his eye that Alex wasn’t sure was entirely humorous. “In light of recent events, I ordered silver bullets in several different calibers, and they’re in these boxes.”
Of course he had. Alex didn’t even want to know where he’d ordered such a thing from, or how he’d gotten them so quickly. “And I’m sure you have suggestions for which guns we should use,” Alex said.
“I’d advise one of these for you, Master Ben.” Chambliss held up two guns.
They were identical to Alex’s untutored eyes, which he squeezed shut while he slapped his forehead. “Tell me those aren’t full-auto M-16s.”
“Well, sir, they’re Colt M4 Commandos, similar to what I assume he carried in Afghanistan. This model—” Chambliss held one up. “—isn’t fully automatic, but it will fire either in semi-automatic mode or a three-round burst. This one switches between semi-auto and fully automatic.”
Ben held his hand out for the first one. “Shape I’m in, better not go full-auto. This’ll do.” He cradled the thing like an old friend and looked almost comfortable, the dark circles under his eyes and palpable exhaustion notwithstanding.
“Right,” Alex said. “What about me?”
“Automatic weapons in the hands of amateurs, even gifted ones, are dangerous. I think this AR-15 semi-automatic will suit your abilities admirably.” He gave it to Alex. “It’s light, it’s accurate, and the magazine holds thirty rounds.”
The gun slid into his hands as if it belonged there. “Okay. Extra mags?”
“Right here. Two extras will give you ninety rounds. Heaven help us all if you need that many.” Chambliss passed Ben a pair of extra magazines for his weapon as well, and Ben stuck them in his pocket.
“What about you?” Alex asked with morbid curiosity.
Chambliss hefted a gun that looked quite a bit meaner than the one he’d given Ben.
Ben stared at it. “Where’d you get a full-auto HK416? Civvies can’t have those.”
“I have my sources.” The butler regretfully eyed an attachment to the thing. “I don’t suppose the grenade launcher will be necessary.”
“You’re keeping a grenade launcher in my house?” Alex practically squeaked. “Chambliss, we need to have a talk.”
“Perhaps later, sir, when our werewolf issues have been resolved.”
“Yeah, okay. Holy shit,” he muttered.
“We should also have body armor.” Chambliss gestured at a group of vests hanging from a pole. “This one is yours—” He pulled one down and began fitting it around Alex.
“You got me my own? I’m touched, Chambliss.”
“Just like to be prepared for all eventualities, sir. There you are.” He grabbed another. “This should fit you, Master Ben, and this one is mine.”
Armored, they went back to the lab to find Jeremy pacing back and forth. “The property’s clear, sir, and we’ll have warning of anyone coming in.”
“Okay, good.” Alex sat down at his desk, running a distracted hand through his hair and punching the keys that programmed the machine that constructed his nanobots. A few minutes later, he pulled two capped vials out of the nanotech fabber and handed them to Jeremy. “Take these upstairs to where the others are dug in and give them to Dr. McFoucher. Tell her that they’re numbers two and five, and she’ll know what to do with them.”
Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that, but contingency plans were handy in general and Alex had never gotten anywhere by underestimating opponents. “I’m assuming that you know about Chambliss’s little arsenal.”
Jeremy shrugged, looking embarrassed. “I might have made some suggestions.”
“Thought so. Weapon up, grab some body armor for them and you, and stay up there with them.”
“Sir—”
“Jeremy. There’s one experience
d gun up there. One. And all she has is a pistol.”
A muscle in Hasgrave’s jaw twitched. “Yessir.” He took the elevator.
Alex stared around at the lab. He’d backed everything up offsite, in case of accidents. His will was current, at the insistence of the Board, which harangued him about such things on a too-regular basis. And now all they could do was wait.
Alex hated waiting. His always-busy brain cast about for something to do and lit upon “taking care of his people.” He eyed Ben, who looked brittle and rocky. “Ben, man, sit down before you fall down,” he said. “What do you need?”
Ben dropped onto the couch and put his feet up on the cushions, leaning his head back against the armrest and closing his eyes. He didn’t let go of the gun, though. “A week’s worth of nightmare-free sleep and a two-pound medium-rare steak. To start.”
Alex was running on fumes himself; fatigue weighted his limbs and blurred his vision. “I’m sorry you got dragged into this.”
“You didn’t know.” And Ben was out.
Alex decided to let him crash now, because if he did it in the middle of a firefight … well. Their day would suck even more. The proximity alarms would warn them in time to get him up. He exchanged a glance with Chambliss, who shook his head.
“Food?” Alex suggested.
“Coming right up, sir. Any preferences?”
“Meat. Lots and lots of meat.”
“Of course. May I perhaps add some vegetables as well?”
“Knock yourself out.”
Chambliss disappeared upstairs, and the sideboard beckoned. Alex ruthlessly resisted the siren call of his scotch. He didn’t need to be impaired for this. More impaired. Instead, he grabbed a cranberry juice from the mini fridge and got to work on the lycanthropy problem again, because letting his mind buzz around with nothing to do except worry wouldn’t be good for anyone.
O O O
The delicious aroma of medium-rare t-bone steak had the wolf up and salivating before Ben quite knew what was happening. A glance at his watch told him he’d slept for half an hour, which would have to do. Chambliss had set a plate piled high with meat, potatoes, and broccoli on the table beside the sofa, and Ben sat up and dug in, noting that the other two men were eating as well. Last meal, he thought sardonically. At least it was a good one.