Wolfen

by Alianne Donnelly

  The trouble was, they didn’t do it by building themselves up; they did it by breaking others down. The most amazing inventions throughout human history, no matter how well intentioned, had always been warped into something terrible, because at their core, humans themselves were terrible. Evil begot evil. Darkness begot darkness.

  Homo sapiens evolved to dominate a fantastically fertile, beautiful world. They destroyed it. Their inventions could have opened the horizons for miracles. They used them for war instead.

  They created Wolfen. And somewhere in the genetic blend of perfections, they sowed the seeds for converts. Or perhaps it was the other way around. Maybe converts had been the goal all along, and Wolfen were the unintended byproduct. The antidote to an engineered biochemical weapon of mass destruction.

  And the world turned darker still.

  Aiden sighed, and rubbed his eyes with a shaky hand. This was exactly why he hated meditation. Nothing good ever came out of deep thinking. He should have been coming up with an escape plan instead.

  Step one: go MacGyver on this shithole and manufacture an explosive device out of gum wrappers and a urine-soaked piece of cloth.

  Step two: kill Klaus and his daughter.

  Step three: get past a convert-infested forest.

  Step four: hike a few hundred miles north to Montana.

  Now all he needed was a handful of gum wrappers and a utility knife.

  Desiree’s footsteps were quiet this time, hesitant, but her heartbeat hammered like a drum. As she slunk along the wall, the vibrations translated over to his door, dinging in his ear. Half of him wanted to get up and tear the door off of its hinges to get at her throat. But he was too damned tired to muster up the righteous wrath he was fully entitled to. He could barely make it past the level of mild annoyance that she’d disrupted his inner Zen.

  Instead of poisoning the air with curses and dire threats, all he managed was a bitter, “What do you want?” and he barely grated that much through a raw throat.

  “You’re talking.”

  “Yeah. Proves my kind capable of intelligent speech. Whoop-dee-doo.”

  She came closer. “No, I mean… I thought you’d be out until morning, at least.”

  Aiden’s smile was more of a sneer. “Surprise.”

  “H-how do you feel?”

  “Like I’ve had the life sucked out of me through my dick. It’s not as pleasant as the commercials would have you believe.”

  She giggled, a sound bordering on hysteria that ended in a hiccup. “You’re funny.”

  “It’s one of my finer qualities,” he said with a frown. “Why do I smell blood?” Not Wolfen blood or animal blood, either. Definitely human.

  “I started menstruating.”

  Liar.

  Aiden twisted to take a gander through the keyhole. It hurt like a son of a bitch, and he couldn’t hold this position longer than a few seconds, but it was enough. She stood by the wall, hands flat against the stone for balance, head turned to watch the tunnels as if she expected monsters to pour in at any second. The length of her delicate neck was exposed, presented on a silver platter. Just one bite. He could take his time; sink his teeth into her flesh, feel her squirm, taste her blood as it ran down his throat, before he jerked his head and broke her spinal column. It wouldn’t kill her, just paralyze her. Aiden didn’t want her dead; he wanted to make her feel everything she’d done to him. And then some.

  Momentarily lost in his twisted fantasy, he didn’t notice the subtle discrepancy right away.

  Her demeanor was off; she wasn’t here to study the effects of the venom or to record his recovery. Her posture, her eyes, her subtle hand tremors told Aiden she was asking about his state on reflex. Desiree’s mind was elsewhere. He inhaled deeply for more clues.

  She smelled of blood, and fear, and…something mineral.

  “Hey, uh, do you mind if I stay here for a bit?” she asked, slinking even closer.

  “Are you hiding?” With the monster who had every reason to tear her limb from limb, who had, in fact, sworn to do just that a few hours ago?

  “Of course not. Just…wanted a little peace and quiet.”

  Aiden tossed his head back, and howled. Not his best performance, by far. Too raw, a sound of pain, more than aggression, but it was just loud enough to do the trick.

  “Stop it!”

  He howled again.

  Desiree crossed the tunnel, thumped her hands on his door. Four inches away, and he couldn’t fucking touch her. Christ, he wanted to so badly, his claws dug into the stone on either side of his hips as he imagined ripping her skin from her bones.

  “Shh! Quiet!”

  And encore. The more desperate she sounded, the louder he got, savagely enjoying her fear like fine wine, until his howls echoed throughout the tunnel. Just to spite her. A small revenge; nowhere near enough to make up for what she’d done, but it was a start.

  “Oh God, stop. Please!”

  His final howl faded at the sound of her crying, and his vintage wine turned foul, the scent of her fear leaving an ugly, bitter taste at the back of his throat. She wasn’t playing. She was terrified. And not of him.

  “I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry…”

  The same old tired fucking litany, sliding lower and lower as she sank down outside of his cell until her mouth was about level with his ear.

  Aiden’s jaw clenched, teeth cracking. He waited for her to weep herself out. Pathetic, goddamned woman-child, incapable of owning up to her actions. It disgusted him, listening to her fall apart. As if it made a fucking difference now. As if an apology could make everything better.

  “I didn’t want to… He would have killed me. You don’t know—”

  “I know one thing,” Aiden said softly. He heard her sniffle, slide her forehead higher, and then turn sideways to press her ear to the door, breath huffing against the metal. “I will feel your bones break in my hands. I’ll sink my claws into you, and make a wreath out of your intestines. You will see your own beating heart before you die, and you will feel every torture you can possibly imagine, and more.”

  “I did what I had to.”

  “No, you did what you were told. And there will be a reckoning, I promise you that.”

  “What if I could get you out of here?”

  He elbowed the door—hard. Bang.

  “I mean it! I know where the keys are—”

  Bang.

  “I have an ally, we could get you free and—”

  Bang!

  “Please! I—”

  BANG!… BANG!… BANG!… BANG!

  By the time the last toll quieted, she was gone.

  29: Desiree

  “I am trying to make this right!”

  A hard bang makes me retreat.

  Another elicits a sharp pang of regret.

  The third destroys any hope I might have had of getting a chance to redeem myself.

  I have no friends here. Not a single one. Not even him.

  This creature, locked in a tomb of a cell, would rather stay there and rot, than align himself with someone like me.

  I want to tell Alpha that I fixed it, to convince him somehow that I am not this evil, corrupt thing Klaus tried to make me into. But he’s done listening. I can’t get through to him any more than I can stand up to Klaus, or undo any of the horrible things he’s made me do. I can’t go back in time and restore Alpha’s dignity.

  It’s all just words.

  BANG!

  Meaningless after the fact.

  BANG!

  I’m a day too late to convince him I’m still a decent human being.

  BANG!

  I’ve done too much to prove otherwise.

  ~

  “Dee! We need you!”

  Desiree wiped away her tears and hurried to her lab, where Frank and a couple of his men were carrying a body her way. Nick wasn’t among them. “My God, Dare! What happened?” Did that sound over the top?

  “We found him
in the baths.”

  She hurried to open the door. “Clear that table and lay him down on it. And get me more light.”

  The men followed her instructions, while she washed her hands. With only so many candles to light, it made for a lot of shadows, but Desiree had one last headband-mounted electric flashlight. She put it on and hobbled closer to Dare, checked his pulse, his breathing, and his pupils. Only once she’d covered the basics did she examine the side of his head where blood had matted his red hair. “This looks pretty deep, but he’s still breathing on his own. That’s a good sign.”

  “He got lucky,” one of the others remarked. She could never remember his name—Mike? Mark?

  “Or whoever hit him got cold feet.” Frank looked hard at Desiree.

  She didn’t rise to the bait. “I’ll need to stitch this up. There’s a sewing kit over there. And get me some alcohol and bandages. You two, I’ll need you to hold him down in case he wakes up.”

  “What I’m wondering, is what he was doing in the baths all on his own. He’s your security detail, right?”

  Desiree briefly met Frank’s gaze. “I had to work late today. He said he was going to the latrines. I figured he’d be back in a few minutes.”

  “And what were you doing outside?”

  If you must lie, do it with the truth. Desiree arranged the supplies next to Dare. She soaked a scrap of cloth with alcohol and pressed it to the wound. Dare didn’t twitch. “It was a long day. I needed a little fresh air. And then the Wolfen started going crazy in the tunnels and I got scared, so I came back here.”

  She cut away a patch of hair around Dare’s wound, with Frank watching her every move.

  “We’ll need to inform the boss,” he said.

  “Go ahead.” She threaded a needle. “And while you’re at it, get Arik.”

  “Why? You got us now. We’ll keep an eye on you.”

  That sounded like a threat.

  Desiree straightened to cover up for her hesitation, and to give her back a break before she started stitching. “Looks like he’s out cold, but get ready to move fast, just in case.” They got into position, sitting and lying across Dare’s body, then she leaned over him once more. The first jab of the needle was the worst. Once she tugged the thread taut and pulled the edges of the wound together, it got easier. Dare didn’t move the whole time she worked on him.

  The others picked up on it, too. “Why’s he not waking up?”

  “His right pupil is larger than his left, and unresponsive. He could have a concussion.” In which case, his unconsciousness could mean a coma.

  Frank pushed one of his men aside. “I’ll handle this. Go get Klaus.”

  “Almost done,” Desiree said as the man ran out. She pulled the last stitch tight and knotted it off. “Hopefully the alcohol did its job. I can dress the wound with honey to stave off infection. Beyond that, there’s nothing more I can do.”

  The men let go of Dare.

  “You don’t seem too broken up about this,” Frank said.

  “I’m your physician,” she replied, applying an even coat of honey. Without proper pharmaceuticals, they were all back to ancient times. Honey was the best wound dressing in the world. It never went bad, it kept the wound from going putrid, and kept the bandages from sticking. Literally, the most important medicine Desiree or anyone else had these days, and it was worth its weight in gold. “I’m not supposed to be emotional while working.”

  “Yeah, but he’s your guard. If it was me, I’d be wondering who did this to ‘em.”

  “Why do you assume someone did this to him? He could have tripped and fallen.”

  “Doubt it. Dare’s one of the most agile guys I’ve got. Real cat-like. And then there’s this.” He tilted Dare’s hand into the light to show her the bite impressions around his knuckles. They’d found him too soon; the swelling and bruising hadn’t disguised them yet. “Smacks of foul play, if you ask me.”

  “Interesting theory,” Desiree muttered.

  “You like that, do you? I’ve got one more for you. I think you did it.”

  She stared at him as if he’d just said something incredibly stupid. “I’m going to let you think about that one for a second.”

  “Oh, I did. Fact is, out of everyone in Haven, you had the best reason to kill him. You hate him. And don’t try to play that off; we all know it. It’s pretty obvious. People saw you two arguing just today. Mind telling me what that was about?”

  “He’s an asshole,” she answered shortly. “He treats me like shit, so yeah, no, I don’t like him. But that’s a far cry from me trying to kill him.”

  “Is it?”

  “Okay, I see I’ll have to walk you through this one. You think I somehow managed to overpower a trained guard and bash him over the head. Me. One-legged Desiree. Or, as Dare calls me, ‘Tripod.’”

  “Stranger things have happened.”

  Desiree rolled her eyes, and lowered herself into her chair. No reason to wait standing up. Frank wouldn’t let her leave, anyway. Not until Klaus stepped in and this matter got resolved to his satisfaction.

  Frank was a killer Captain of the Guard—emphasis on killer. He took his job seriously, and when something stuck in his craw, he went after it like a dog with a bone. He never gave up. He was as close as Haven would ever get to a true-blue, honest-to-goodness Sherlock Holmes, except he preferred Cuban cigars to pipes, didn’t wear hats, and liked to use his AK-47 in place of a magnifying glass.

  All of that added up to Desiree being in deep shit if he unearthed anything concrete tying her to Dare’s assault. She wouldn’t put it past him to compare bite marks.

  “In any case,” Frank said, “I’ve got my men searching the baths. If the killer left anything behind, they’ll find it.”

  “Dare’s not dead,” she said. Yet.

  “Your point?”

  “You’re not looking for a killer. You’re looking for an attacker.”

  “You think that technicality will make a difference with the boss?”

  Desiree shrugged. No one could predict what might set Klaus off. He could take one look at Dare and have Frank whipped for dragging him out of bed, or he could stage a full-blown witch hunt and turn Haven upside down looking for the culprit. It really was a tossup with him.

  They waited long, silent minutes for Klaus’ arrival. Arik was right on his heels, but the other guards kept him outside when Klaus entered. He managed to take in the scene and send Desiree a questioning look before he was pushed out.

  All she could do was shrug, and wasn’t even sure Arik had seen it before Frank closed the door in his face.

  Klaus looked Dare over, checked the wound, then made an approving sound at Desiree’s handiwork. So far, so good.

  “What do we know?” he asked when he was finished, and faced Frank to receive his report.

  Frank caught him up on what he knew; how he saw the unlit torches and went to investigate, where they’d found Dare, the condition he was in, the state of the baths. He was also sure to mention Desiree hadn’t been inside the lab when they’d arrived.

  Klaus asked a few clarifying questions, then thanked the men and sent them outside. After the door closed, it was just Desiree and an unconscious Dare trapped in a dimly lit room with fire, chemicals, and an unstable Nazi dictator.

  They got caught up in a staring contest so intense, lesser creatures would have broken down and confessed all. Desiree held steady, refusing to blink first.

  It worked. Klaus took his glasses off to polish the lenses. “What do you have to tell me?”

  She shrugged. “No more than Frank already told you. I was within sight of the lab the whole time. I saw them coming with Dare, and—”

  “I mean about the Wolfen.”

  Desiree blinked. The Wolfen? What was he talking about?

  “Arik said you were separating the fluids,” he told her. “What is your progress?”

  What? What the hell had he been thinking?

  I have no friends here. />
  She opened her mouth to respond, then realized she had no idea what to say. Her gaze instinctively went to the beaker by the fire; a rookie mistake that good as told Klaus she was hiding something. Shit.

  He looked over his shoulder and found the glassware. The temperature in her lab dropped to arctic levels. Very slowly, he bent over to retrieve the result of her make-believe experiment in non-molecular fluid separation. He paused when he hefted it, then held the beaker up to the light, tilting it this way and that.

  The contents had turned gelatinous.

  What…?

  Desiree scrambled for an explanation. “I…the convert venom must have interacted with the fluids somehow.” Obviously. The blood had congealed into a thin layer on the bottom, leaving the seminal fluid free of contaminants at the top. Except, it was almost solid. “I swear, Klaus, I did everything by the book. I had…” Wait a minute… “I had the beaker right there”—she pointed to Dare—“I told the men to clear the table when they brought him in. Someone must have put it too close to the fire.” Brilliant! “The heat would have accelerated the chemical reaction.”

  “Who?” he asked, and Desiree knew whoever she named would die tonight. All she had to do was speak their name.

  “I don’t know,” she said.

  “You didn’t see it?”

  “There was a man bleeding all over my lab. My first priority was to deal with him. No, I didn’t see what happened to one particular beaker.”

  “Dat beaker should have been your priority! Dat fos de task I gave you!”

  Desiree raised her chin. For once, his wrath was aimed at someone else as much as her. “I will not let a man die because of an experiment. What if it had been you who was hurt? Would you still want me to make a glass of sperm my priority?”

  “It fos not me. I am not some half-brained troglodyte wis a gun.”

  “Then call it an act of God—”