Wolfen

by Alianne Donnelly

The door opened, admitting both light and the great and powerful Klaus. “Und how is our patient?”

  Arik removed himself to the door. “Shaken, but she’ll live,” he reported. Silly.

  “The Wolfen is incapacitated for the moment,” she said, and handed over the beaker. “The serum worked.”

  “Excellent,” Klaus crowed, but his expression was less than satisfied. “There is an inordinate amount of non-seminal liquid.” Ever the purist.

  It’s called blood, you son of a bitch.

  “Can it be removed?”

  “If we had a centrifuge, sure. Without one, highly doubtful. The time it would take to attempt it would render the sperm cells useless for our purposes.” And they didn’t have a freezer to preserve them, either.

  After a moment of contemplation, Klaus set the beaker aside. “Very well. I will have the females prepped for insemination in the morning.”

  Desiree nodded. Nothing more she could say.

  Klaus watched her for a moment, then stepped closer and laid an imperious hand on her shoulder. “You did well, Dee. I am proud of you. Why don’t you go get some rest?”

  Desiree squeezed her eyes shut, counting to a thousand and back, until he got the hell away from her.

  The door closed softly, a sinister whisper of malice.

  Desiree hadn’t realized she was holding her breath, until it burst out as a sob. She was shaking again as she shed the blanket and got back to work. Evil waited for no one.

  “He said to give it a rest,” Arik reminded her.

  She ignored him. There was equipment to sterilize, crude turkey basters to prepare, and Wolfen sperm to process.

  “Dez?”

  Chop, chop, Stumperella, there won’t be any fairytale woodland creatures coming to clean house for you now.

  Arik sighed, helped her clear a worktable, and set out her instruments, because her hands were too unsteady for the delicate glassware. She let him do it while she gathered the rest of her non-breakable instruments. It was busywork for her hands so her mind wouldn’t dwell.

  “Can you get me that bucket of distilled water? And the soap, too. It’s on the shelf over there.”

  “Sure,” Arik said. He retrieved both, but paused by the other table where Klaus had left the beaker. He stared at it, rubbing his chin, while Desiree stood waiting with her hand outstretched for her tools.

  “Something wrong?” she asked.

  “Sperm is temperature-sensitive, right?”

  “Yeah, raise the temp too high and the cells die off.” She frowned. “Why?”

  Arik nodded and swiped the beaker off of the table. “We got our orders for the night. The boss said you should get your rest, and I need to make sure that you do.” He set the beaker down right next to the fire. “Wouldn’t want to disobey him. I mean, it’s already late, and it’s been a really long day. Really long. Shit goes wrong when you’re that tired.” He smiled, handing her the water and soap.

  Desiree took them, gaze locked on that beaker. Already the low heat of the fire was starting to affect its contents, forcing the blood and seminal fluid apart. Left that way long enough, the unique chemistry of Alpha’s Wolfen blood would cause it to sink to the bottom—a clean separation from the dead sperm.

  Exactly what Klaus had wanted, just not the way he’d wanted it.

  “Arik?” she said distractedly.

  “Yeah?”

  “Have I told you lately that you’re a genius?”

  He gave a modest shrug. “I have my moments.”

  But it wouldn’t be that easy. Nothing ever was. “If Klaus finds out about this…”

  “Best not to stick around that long. Don’t you think?”

  She raised an eyebrow. “What, you want to leave tonight?”

  “It’s time to put your money where your mouth is.”

  Desiree shook her head. “This isn’t something we can do half-assed. We have to wait until morning.”

  “Are you insane? Walk out in broad daylight? And how do you propose we keep Klaus off our backs once he wakes up?”

  “I don’t know!” Too much pressure! She couldn’t think. “This is too fast; I need more time to plan.” They’d need supplies, and weapons, and some story to tell in case they were stopped.

  A muscle twitched in Arik’s jaw. “Here I thought this was a done deal.”

  “It is—now! But it’s not like I’ve been plotting this all my life.”

  “Oh, I see.” He retrieved the beaker and thunked it down onto her desk just short of breaking the glassware, then leaned on it to get in her face. “In that case, it looks like you have more work to do.”

  He walked out, leaving her alone with the prospect of what Klaus expected her to do tomorrow. Desiree sat on the corner of her desk, feeling a hundred years old. Her thoughts drifted together as she stared at the beaker, coalescing by slow degrees until they solidified into ironclad conviction.

  I can’t do this.

  It would be like Chernobyl all over again, only without the sterile conditions or a steady supply of chemical compounds. Klaus didn’t want just a new generation of Wolfen; he wanted a continual breeding program of test subjects on which he could happily practice his sadistic urges.

  He’d left her with no choice. If she went along with it, she’d be too far gone to say no to anything else; it would all pale in comparison to this. If she resisted, Klaus would punish her and find a way to force her hand, even if he had to break it and manipulate it for her.

  No, that gave him more power than he deserved. Desiree still had a choice. It wasn’t easy, but it existed.

  She could do this, tell herself there was no other way and become no better than Klaus, or she could not.

  Desiree held the beaker up to the firelight. Already a thin film of semen had separated at the top. It might be viable at this point.

  I choose not.

  She replaced the beaker near the fire, shuddering when she let go. No turning back. The thought that by this time tomorrow, she could be free forever, made her heart pound and her palms sweat. Looking around her lab, she made a quick mental list of basic necessities. Then, as casually as she could, Desiree went around and gathered them all into a bucket. Whenever Arik came back, she’d tell him where it was so he could grab it, and then they’d leave, long before Klaus woke up.

  Oh my God, this is really happening. I’m getting out of here!

  But Arik didn’t come back. Dare did. “Getting late, Tripod. Finish up.”

  “Where’s Arik?”

  “Did you hear what I said?”

  He had an ugly twist to his mouth, the way he always did when his temper was short. Arik must have given him that talking to.

  Deciding it was safer not to anger him more, Desiree swept one last glance around her lab, made sure the supply bucket was out of sight, and headed out.

  Full night had fallen hours ago, and Haven’s streets were empty except for the guards on patrol. They greeted Dare as they passed, exchanged macho chitchat and good-natured arm punches, while ignoring Desiree.

  In the market, Dare stopped to talk to a pimply teenage boy he’d decided to take under his wing.

  “Yo, Nicky baby, what’s up, man?”

  “Come on, dude,” the boy whined, “you know I hate it when you call me that.”

  Dare chuckled and cuffed him, which the boy seemed to consider a show of affection.

  Desiree rolled her eyes and kept going, making her slow way home.

  “Hey, so check this out,” Dare said, lowering his voice. “You know that thing I keep telling you about?”

  At the far edge of the market, torches lined the path to the baths and the latrines. Guards were supposed to keep them burning through the night, but someone had been derelict. Half of them had fizzled out, leaving long stretches of shadows. An eerie sight, and not one Desiree relished, so she slowed even more, waiting for Dare to catch up.

  “Oh,” Nick was saying, “you mean that thing where you think you can—”

/>   “Will you shut up? Yeah, that thing. And I don’t think it, I know it. Tonight’s my night, man.”

  Great. Who would be the lucky lady of the night? There weren’t many who hadn’t had a taste of his loving yet. From the snatches of conversation she’d caught over the years, that taste was usually short and bitter. But for some, it was better than nothing at all. Desiree happened to not share that philosophy.

  “You’re insane,” Nick said.

  Dare slapped him on the shoulder. “You’ll see.” Then he shoved the boy to get on his way and caught up to Desiree. “Move.”As if she’d been stalling him.

  She sighed, and moved. “The torches are out.”

  “I noticed,” he said.

  “Aren’t you going to light them?”

  “What, you scared of the dark, Tripod?”

  Answering would just invite more conversation.

  Happily, he quieted after that, and Desiree almost forgot he was there.

  Until they reached the baths.

  “You look tense.” Dare grabbed her arm. “You should take a bath to relax.”

  “Wha—hey, knock it off!” He yanked her so hard, she almost fell. She lost her grip on the crutch and it dropped by the cave entrance as Dare dragged her deeper toward the pools. “Let go of me, asshole!”

  “Shut up!” Dare snapped. “Had just about enough of that mouth of yours.”

  Desiree curled her fingers to punch him, but he yanked on her arm in that same instant and her punch flew wide, grazing his cheek.

  Incensed, he grabbed her face, fingers digging hard into her jaw, and her bruised cheek screamed a chorus of agony. She blinked away tears of pain. Dare was so close, she could see the little veins in his eyes. “Do that again, and I’ll…” He grasped for some threat that might intimidate her, but he had nothing, and that pissed him off even more. With a hard shove, he sent her sprawling onto the ground next to one of the deeper pools.

  Dare dragged her up by the back of her shirt, flipped her over, and held her down. “Think you can fuck with me? I’ll show you, fucking bitch.” He grabbed her hands and pinned them over her head.

  Desiree screamed. “Get off me!”

  Dare grinned. “That’s it, bitch, fight me. Scream your stupid little head off.” He licked her cheek, and at her ear, added, “Nobody’s coming. Nobody cares.” When he pulled back, he had a look she rarely saw, one that said he had this in the bag. He’d set this up and rigged the game so there was no possible chance he couldn’t lose. It was the only way he could ever win. Bone-thin, one-legged Desiree, and he still had to cheat to get the better of her. “You’re my bitch now.”

  Desiree spat at him. Not me, asshole. Not today, of all days.

  Dare’s expression turned murderous and he slapped her hard across her bruised cheek, leaving her dazed. As her head lolled, he flipped her onto her front. Desiree blinked slowly in the dark, dreamlike mist settling in around her. She felt utterly disconnected from her body, floating on a haze of confusion. Her hands were in the water. He was so damned sure of himself, he’d left them free.

  Dare groaned as he pulled her pants down and rearranged himself against her.

  Nobody’s coming… Nobody cares…

  Tears blurred her vision.

  Dare braced a hand on the center of her spine, using his knees to force her legs apart. Cold fear gripped her. She was pinned with Dare’s weight smothering the breath out of her. She couldn’t scream.

  “Let me see your face, bitch.” Breathing hard, he grabbed her chin and twisted it around so she looked at him. “I want to see your eyes when I fuck you.”

  Desiree’s fingers curled around a rock, and it came loose in her grip. With his face a fraction of an inch from her, she swung as hard as she could.

  “Ow!” Dare groped for the rock, but Desiree flailed sideways to keep it away, and he lost his balance, falling shoulder-deep into the pool, smothering her beneath him. She couldn’t move an inch until Dare pushed himself up again, but the moment she had that inch, she took it. Desiree twisted around for better leverage and struck again—a glancing blow. Damn it!

  Dare snarled, and slammed her face down hard against rock, but his hold was slippery and his fingers dipped into her mouth.

  Desiree bit.

  He hollered and punched her in the side to dislodge her. She absorbed the pain the way she always did with Klaus and bit down harder, twisting for good measure. A knuckle popped, and Dare screamed, rolling off of her.

  High on fear and a massive rush of adrenaline, Desiree flipped over and swung again. He blocked with his forearm, shoved her aside, and followed through with a backhand, but he used his injured hand, and it hurt him more than it did her. “You goddamn fucking cuntbag whore!”

  Desiree had precious seconds to right herself before Dare came at her again, just enough time for a wild, desperate swing.

  She connected. The rock’s sharp edge struck his temple and laid him out in a daze. Not enough. He was still conscious, already reaching for her. Desiree clutched the rock, two-handed, and put all her meager weight behind it, coming down on his head with every ounce of her terror and wrath, again and again.

  She kept hitting, unable to stop, until his arms dropped limp by his sides and he stilled. His eyelids lowered in a slow blink and opened half-mast, then closed again and stayed closed.

  Desiree scrambled back. “Oh my God…” She forced her fingers to unclench from around the rock. Blood was everywhere; she felt it on her face, and panicked. Diving for the pool, she scrubbed her hands, her face, shaking like a leaf and holding her wheezy breaths so she could hear if the cavalry came.

  The night was quiet. No guards on patrol; all Havenites tucked safely in their beds.

  No one is coming. No one cares.

  Desiree moaned, quickly tugging her pants back on with all the coordination of a meth addict. Only then did she look at Dare. He hadn’t woken up yet. Wiping her nose, she crawled over and steeled herself to check his pulse. Weak, but steady. Still alive.

  What now?

  She couldn’t drag him out; couldn’t call for help—she’d have to admit she’d almost killed him. No one would care it’d been in self-defense; they’d crucify her for almost murdering one of their precious few protectors.

  Desiree stared down at him, lightheaded with hopelessness. He was right. She was alone here, completely on her own, only worth keeping so long as she was useful to Klaus. In the morning, when her and Arik’s little prank with the beaker came to light, when they discovered what had happened to Dare, she’d be done for. I have no one to fight for me.

  I am alone.

  Not true. She had herself.

  Desiree gritted her teeth, squared her shoulders, and focused on that lifeline. I have myself. I am the daughter of Klaus-fucking-Koch. I am your better in every way. You think you can fuck with me? You think I’ll bend over for any of you? Think again.

  Desiree was done being anyone’s bitch.

  “Nobody cares?” she said. “Fine.” Swallowing back her nausea, she tucked Dare’s limp cock back into his pants, then checked his hand. She hadn’t broken skin. He’d be bruised, but the bite marks would fade. “Nobody’s coming? Good. That means nobody’s going to find you for hours.” She checked the head wound still oozing blood, and whispered, “I hope you never wake up.”

  She shoved to her feet and tottered toward the mouth of the cave and her crutch. Then, keeping to the shadows, she headed for her lab. That was her safest bet. If they found her all the way over there, Desiree could say she’d been working late. She did it often enough for the lie to be believable.

  Yes. She’d say Dare had left on break, and she had no idea what happened to him. No one else had been in or anywhere near the baths; Dare had made sure of that. He could just as easily have tripped and fallen, and as the closest thing to a physician they had, Desiree could confirm that. They’d believe her, as long as she kept calm.

  Yes. Good plan.

  Except, by the time sh
e’d tuned back to the present, she realized her feet hadn’t taken her to the bastion of her lab, but on a path of frantic escape.

  She was in the tunnels.

  28: Aiden

  “To live is to suffer, to survive is to find some meaning in the suffering.”

  Fuck you, Nietzsche.

  ~

  There were a few cups of cold water left. Aiden gulped them down in three huge swallows. By the time he’d set the bucket aside again, his arms were shaking with strain. Full night had fallen out there, and he was still trying to gather enough strength to stand. None doing. He was stuck with his back to the metal door, pants around his knees. Even if he could lift his hips enough to pull them up, any contact with his groin was sheer agony.

  But Aiden’s body was healing. Cells regenerated, one by one, slow as lava flow, and just as painful. Every so often, his muscles spasmed like a full-body cramp, making him see stars and tearing newly regenerated ligaments right back up again. Two steps forward, one step back. Repeat.

  Ice. He needed ice. Lots of it. The cool water and cloth were sad substitutes.

  Nice gesture, though. If not for, you know, all the torture and shit.

  The bitch had shot him up with convert venom. He hadn’t even known that was possible. People who got close to that stuff didn’t usually live long enough to tell their friends about it, let alone extract and weaponize it. But damn, if she hadn’t managed. Kudos. No, really. That Klaus had to be one proud poppa bear.

  Aiden shook both of them from his mind, closed his eyes, and tried to meditate. It wasn’t his thing. His brand of therapy consisted more of busting heads together, not sitting quietly and breathing. He tended to avoid places of deep thought, although he could appreciate a tight ass in a pair of yoga pants just as much as the next guy.

  Someone once said imagination, the ability to picture what was not, to dream up fantastic new ideas, concepts, even worlds, was the distinguishing characteristic of humanity as a species. Imagination made people strive for that thing just out of reach.

  Aiden scoffed. Humans, at their best were darker, more savage, self-serving, and sadistic than any other species. Imagination was only a tool, an extension of what was already there. You couldn’t make light from darkness, and that thing just out of reach was more often than not power, money, and control; a misguided survival instinct compelling humans to always fight for the top, to be better, stronger, more than anyone else.