Wolfen

by Alianne Donnelly

  “Yeah. And maybe we’ll wake up tomorrow and the sky will rain down chocolate chip cookies.”

  17: Desiree

  The first shriek to rend the night terrified Desiree out of a deep sleep and sent her rolling off of the bed. She instantly scrambled underneath it and made herself as small as possible. Her room was only a few feet from the inner wall, and it sounded like converts were just outside it. Had they breached Haven’s defenses?

  No, think! If they’d gotten inside, there would have been screaming and alarms set off.

  Another shriek answered the first, and several more joined in.

  No, they hadn’t gotten inside—yet. But they were close. Too close.

  Dozens called to each other in a sickening symphony of deranged howls, voices unique but in a strange, unsettling way, harmonizing with the rest. And over it all rose a horrible, ululating voice—a sound fit to curdle blood. Their leader. Desiree had seen him once from a distance. Might made right among converts; their primitive hierarchy depended on size and brute strength. Their leader was a massive six foot ten, and built like a tank. He had a short, wide neck, with vocal cords that emitted sounds she’d never heard before. She knew it was him out there now; his voice was unmistakable. And if he was there, then this wasn’t a meandering nature walk.

  Desiree waited for the gunfire. Klaus was cautious with ammunition, but he wouldn’t tolerate a threat this close to Haven. They had to be within feet of the outer wall; closer than they’d ever dared come before. Haven’s defenses might have looked impressive from the outside, but their construction was little more than a house of metal cards. If even one convert managed to entertain the thought of attacking long enough to give it a try, they were all in very deep shit.

  The guards knew that, and they’d start shooting any minute.

  Any minute now.

  But instead of a rapid succession of pops, when the voices outside lulled a little, someone shouted an order into the night: “Hold positions! We do not engage!”

  What? No! Where the hell was Klaus? They needed fire power—STAT!

  A disturbance rose up outside her room. She peeked out from under the bed and saw shadows moving past her door. A mother shushed her crying child. Teenagers whispered to each other in a rush of hissed words.

  “Hurry up! We have to get to the commons.”

  “We’ll be safe there, right? I mean, they won’t get through the walls, will they?”

  The answer was too muffled, but Desiree could take an educated guess. If people were gathering in the commons, the centermost point of Haven, then they still believed there was power in numbers; that if they were all in one place, the guards would keep them safe longer.

  In reality, they would have been better off running for the escape tunnels instead. If there was strength in numbers, then why was no one knocking on doors, rousing the citizens, sounding alarms?

  Answer: Because no one cared.

  People always showed their true colors in a crisis. Everyone was all hunky dory during the good times, swearing fealty and promising love ever after, but as soon as times got tough, all of those loyalties evaporated like piss on a hot summer day, and then it was every man for himself. No one could afford to hold your hand when they had to hold a weapon; you either followed the current and joined the herd, or you were left to the wolves.

  The weak, the old, and the lame always got left behind. Which meant Desiree was on her own.

  The last of the Havenites had evacuated this part. Not even her erstwhile guards would come for her now. Desiree pulled herself out from under the bed and strapped on her prosthesis with shaking hands. With her crutch to steady her, she huddled by the door, checking to make sure nothing was there before she stepped out and hurried through the corridors toward the commons.

  Her mind played tricks on her in the dark; the abandoned paths were like an eerie ghost town with monsters just beyond the wall. Every flap of cloth, every skitter of rodent feet made her jump. She imagined converts stalking inside Haven, just around every corner. They were coming for her. She knew it.

  Faster. Faster!

  With each step she took, the howling grew louder, making Haven’s thick walls seem almost insubstantial. She fought back tears, forced air in and out through a throat tight with fear. Desiree saw glowing eyes in every shadow, until she made herself not look. She heard footsteps just behind her, claws scratching at the metal wall, but when she spun around, there was nothing.

  It was all in her head.

  It’s not real.

  Oh, the converts were out there, but in the open, Desiree was better able to judge the sounds and she could tell they were a sure distance away. A couple dozen yards, at least. Still much too close for comfort, considering they must have crossed about five miles of wide-open space to get there.

  And if they’d gotten that far, what was to stop them from going farther? At any moment, one of them could set his sights on Haven, and their hive mind mentality would compel every single convert to charge the compound. They wouldn’t stop until they’d gotten inside. No matter what it took, how long it took, or how many died in the attempt, they’d keep on coming. They didn’t know how to give up. Haven’s walls would crumble to dust in minutes.

  Desiree quickened her step, prosthetic joints creaking with too much strain. She didn’t care. The commons weren’t far, just beyond the baths and the market. She could make it. There was safety in numbers, if those numbers had guns. She was going so fast, trying so hard to outrun Death’s call, her prosthetic foot caught on her crutch and she fell. Hard.

  As if they sensed it, the converts quieted. Desiree’s heart thundered. She’d never make it to the commons this way. The baths were a few feet in front of her; she could hide there. Maybe the mineral-rich steam would disguise her scent until the storm blew over. She could hide in the water. Better to drown on her own than be torn apart by them.

  A different set of sounds outside the wall startled her—higher pitched, almost questioning. Whoops and clicks, followed by a series of hisses and grunts. One howled, another emitted a sharp, wet bark. Almost like a conversation.

  But that couldn’t be. Converts weren’t that smart. They were ruled by instinct. Organization of any sort was purely incidental.

  Right?

  Through the snarls and growls that almost seemed like a verbal fight, a more melodic voice sounded: Woooip—woooip—woooaaaaaaa…

  Chuffing followed, and another shriek, and then the rest screamed together.

  Sweet Jesus, they’re communicating!

  Desiree pulled herself up with the crutch and hobbled into the dark tunnel. Torches were mounted on the wall, along with a small fire starter. She set her crutch against the wall, took the torch down, and struck metal against metal. Her hands shook too much, and the spark flew wide of the torch, wasted. Desiree tried again.

  A small noise echoed in the cave.

  She froze. “H-hello?” Fire forgotten, she dropped the tool and reclaimed her crutch. “Is anyone there?” She couldn’t outrun whatever was in here, but she sure as hell wouldn’t lie down and volunteer to be dinner. “Hello?”

  “Dee?”

  She recognized the voice and sagged in relief. “Rey? What are you doing here?”

  The five-year-old boy came out of hiding. He was little more than a shadow, but it didn’t matter. “I lost my mum,” he said. “Did you see her? Where did she go?”

  “She’s probably in the commons. They’re all there. I’m sure she’ll come get you in the mor—”

  “Can you take me to her?”

  Shit. “Uh, it’s probably safer if we stay here. At least until sunup.”

  “Please, Dee! I’m scared!” He broke into tears. “I want my mum!” The boy wailed, his voice amplified by the caves.

  Outside, the converts answered.

  “Shhh! Hush. We have to be quiet.”

  Rey howled louder.

  “Please, stop it. Crying won’t help anything.”

  �
��I want my muuuummyyyy!”

  “I know, I know, but—”

  “Muuuummyyyyyyyyy!”

  Shit and drat. And goddamn it, too. “Okay, fine. I’ll take you. But you have to stop crying.”

  He stopped at once and launched himself at her, hugging her middle so hard, he almost knocked her to the ground. “Thank you, Dee!”

  “Hey, easy there, yeah? I only have the one good leg.”

  Rey sniffled and wiped his nose on her shirt. “Sorry.” He held his hand out for her to take.

  Seriously? Where the hell did kids learn to be such manipulative little monsters? She had half a mind to leave him here and go somewhere else.

  But no. She couldn’t. That would be wrong.

  A shaft of faint moonlight shone down on the boy as he blinked his big, wet, owl eyes at her, still holding out that hand.

  Desiree rolled her own eyes. “Other side, kid.”

  He came around, tucked his hand into hers, and led her outside. He pulled, eager to find his derelict mother, not caring one damned bit that Desiree couldn’t walk as fast as he did. But when the howls picked up again, he gasped and cowered against her, his thin little body quivering. Apparently any adult would do in a pinch, crippled or not. She was bigger, so Rey expected her to protect him.

  “Come on, we gotta keep moving.” She didn’t want to be out here any more than he did, and the sooner she handed him off, the better.

  He nodded and walked, but kept his arms around her and his face turned into her side. It made for some very precarious maneuvering but they managed, and once the path had opened up a little through the market, they were almost home free. Fires flickered in the distance. Havenites, as a rule, were afraid of the dark. They lit torches and huddled close, preferring to take their chances together out in the open, rather than hide inside alone.

  “Rey!”

  The boy’s head snapped up. “Mummy?”

  “Rey!” The haggard Fiona ran for her son, but as soon as she saw Desiree, her tear-streaked, blissfully relieved expression turned into hard antagonism. “Get your hands off my son!” She snatched the boy away, glaring as if Desiree was singlehandedly responsible for his near-imminent demise.

  “I found him in the baths,” Desiree said.

  Fiona turned her back and crooned loudly to drown out Desiree’s voice. “Oh, my boy, I was so scared! Don’t you ever run away from me like that again, you hear!”

  “You’re welcome,” Desiree muttered. They were already too far to hear. As mother and child rejoined the herd of frightened humanity, people smiled in relief, opened their arms to the boy returned safely to their midst. Then they looked at who’d brought him back, and turned feral.

  Right. Desiree not welcome here. I forgot about that.

  There were no guards in sight. It was a tossup whether they were on the outer wall, or making a run for it through the escape tunnels. Either way, approaching the Havenites without them around might be just as dangerous as facing off with converts. Rather than risk their animosity, Desiree ducked into shadows where she wouldn’t be easily visible.

  If the monsters breached the wall, not even the Havenites’ little huddle would save them. Desiree hoped it wouldn’t get that far, but she was a realist. If the worst should happen, then her only chance of survival was to get a nice, long head start into the tunnels.

  Off into the rabbit hole I go.

  18: Aiden

  I hear barbarians at the gate.

  Let the games begin.

  ~

  Aiden had managed to score pretty decent digs—a cell, five feet long, six feet wide, ceiling almost high enough for him to stand upright, with a solid metal door and half a piss bucket. Five-star amenities, as far as he was concerned.

  There was only one problem.

  It was all wet.

  The walls were wet. The floor was wet. There wasn’t a single square inch of dry anything. He had water dripping down from minuscule stalactites in the ceiling like an ancient torturous mindfuck.

  Not to mention that weird, throbbing whump-whump-whump coming up from the floor. If he didn’t know better, he’d say Klaus had some sort of generator stashed down there.

  Well, at least his ass got a little vibrating massage action while it was stuck to the floor. He might even enjoy it, if it weren’t for the drip, drip, fucking drip. A nervous tic started to develop in his left eye.

  Screw starvation and torture, it was boredom that would finally do him in. That, and the goddamned dripping.

  So yeah, when the converts howled outside, Aiden perked right up. Finally, something to take his mind off of things. Different was good. A little drama never hurt anyone, and it wasn’t like he was opposed to carnage. Bryce and Sinna were miles away by now, and he hoped to hell his brother had hit the road north. The last thing he wanted was to play into Klaus’ hands.

  Bryce was loyal to a fault. Aiden hadn’t had a chance to fully communicate his plan to him but hoped to hell Sinna at least had picked up on it. They needed to go to Montana. People there were depending on their alphas to return, and at least one of them had to. Aiden could kick his heels up here for a while. Not like he couldn’t get out, if he really wanted to. He’d stall for a few days, give his brother and Sinna a good head start, then bust out of here, break some heads, and hightail it to Montana.

  Good, solid plan.

  And if converts wanted to thin the human ranks and make it easier for him, Aiden wasn’t going to complain.

  His keen hearing picked up on movement aboveground. If he didn’t miss his guess, people were closing ranks, coming together to ride out the assault. Whether it came tonight, tomorrow, or the day after, they’d be vigilant from now on. But they’d be looking outside, not in.

  Aiden was almost giddy with anticipation.

  Then his ear twitched at the subtle thunk of wood hitting stone. Aiden stood up, tilting his head this way and that, trying to identify the uneven rhythm. Thunk, step. Thunk, step. Almost like…

  He smiled. The witch.

  Aiden closed his eyes and savored the sound of her approach—slow, measured, but hampered by a crutch or something. Her injury had to be pretty significant to necessitate it. What could it be? A bad break, maybe? A recently dislocated knee? No, something else. A mystery he itched to get to the bottom of.

  “Well, fee-fi-fo-fum.”

  She stopped a few feet from his cell, too far away to glimpse through the keyhole.

  Aiden didn’t mind. He could work with skittish. “Making an early run for it, are you?”

  She swore under her breath, though she might as well have shouted it into his ear.

  Aiden grinned, licking a fang. “Well, go on. Don’t be shy. I promise I’ll give you a generous head start before I break down the door and chase you to the ground.”

  “It’ll be a short chase,” she retorted, more to herself than to him.

  “Not the way I hunt,” he replied.

  She huffed, and the next step she took was away from him.

  “No, wait!” Skittish he could work with. Scared meant game over. He needed someone to talk to him, otherwise he’d go apeshit in here. “What’s going on out there?”

  “Nothing you need to concern yourself with,” she said, as if she’d tossed the words over her shoulder.

  “Right, that’s why you’re hiding down here. Because it’s nothing.”

  “Who says I’m hiding?”

  “Then you came to keep me company? Ah, Dee, I’m honored.”

  An angry thunk. A step closer. “I have a name,” she snapped. “And it’s not Dee.”

  Interesting. “Then what is it?”

  Silence.

  “Okay, I’ll start. Hi, I’m Aiden, and I’m a hostage. Now you say, ‘Hi, Aiden.’ Go on.”

  “You’re Alpha Seven.”

  If not for the confused hesitation in her voice, Aiden might have snapped at that. No one had called him Alpha anything since the last Montana caretaker went down. “Does that subtle dehumani
zation make it easier for you people to treat us like animals? I suppose I should have expected it, you being the offspring of the great Klaus Koch the Savior and all.”

  A pause, and then she sighed. “How did you know?”

  Aiden snorted. “I can smell it all over you.”

  A long, uncomfortable silence almost made Aiden regret his words. He imagined her standing there, half-turned away as if waiting for the starter pistol to chase her off. He kept his mouth shut, held his breath, and waited for her to make up her mind. If she left, he’d have nothing to keep him company but a leaky ceiling and that pulsing beat.

  Aiden frowned and wriggled his ass. Had it gotten stronger?

  There was another quiet thunk and Aiden ducked to the keyhole. He spied the barest edge of her shadow off to the side. She wasn’t leaving; she’d moved closer.

  The crutch came to rest against the wall at the edge of his field of vision; a small, pale hand disappeared before he could study it. She slid down the wall by audible degrees until she was sitting on the floor and, in a grave, unhappy tone, she said, “Klaus Koch has seventy-four biological offspring. Most of them are either dead or out there between the walls. I’m just the one he’d rather not own up to.”

  Aiden’s tension slowly released, and he sat with his back to the door, head resting against the cold metal. “So what’s your name?”

  “Desiree.”

  A particularly angry convert scream outside made her gasp.

  “Are you scared?”

  “I’m human,” she replied.

  “And you all say that like it’s something to be proud of. You know what humanity’s worth these days? Do you know what they’ve done?”

  “They created you.”

  “Yeah, that’s for damn sure. A whole pen full of tinker toys to play with.” Bitter now, are we?

  “You know, there are people out there would give just about anything to be strong like you. Not to mention the only creature safe from converts.”

  Aiden laughed. He couldn’t help it. “And you count yourself among that number?”