With a vicious snarl, Helena got up, eyes feral, glowing with reflected firelight.
Sinna scrambled up, retreating as fast as she could, but the living circle of human flesh shoved her forward again, right into Helena. Sinna swiped with her blade. Helena deflected. She punched out. Helena slapped her hand away like a meddlesome fly, and then caught her throat, lifting her up off her feet. Sinna slashed at Helena’s arm, a shallow nick, but it infuriated Helena beyond reason. She howled and let go, then threw her entire weight behind a backhand strike, so hard, something popped in Sinna’s neck. Pain exploded at the base of her skull. She didn’t feel her impact with the ground. With no sensation in or control over her limbs, she stayed down, paralyzed by more than fear. The base of her skull was a firestorm of agony, but below that…nothing.
Sinna moaned softly, tears stinging her eyes. She couldn’t move. On her front, face half in the sand, she couldn’t even turn over. Help, someone…
The crowd cheered. Fight over. Helena won, and no one questioned how, or why Sinna wasn’t getting back up again. No one saw her eyes were still open, watering and pleading for aid.
Helena ignored the accolades. She wasn’t finished yet. Snarling, she paced back and forth in front of Sinna until she dropped to one knee before her, curled her fingers into Sinna’s hair, and mercilessly lifted her head up. “I was going to let you walk away,” she said, “but you just had to draw blood.”
Sinna recognized the glowing sheen in her dark, blue-green eyes. It was the same one Bryce got when he was close to losing control. With the others exchanging payments and celebrating Helena’s victory, no one noticed the firelight reflecting off of Helena’s raised blade.
Sinna’s body began to tingle, sensation returning to her limbs by slow degrees. Wolfen regenerative abilities had kicked in, working to make her whole again. But not fast enough. As Helena’s blade began to descend, Sinna closed her eyes and thought of sunshine.
Then the ground beneath her shuddered with the force of a deafening roar. People screamed and ran as something huge landed not far from her, and in an instant, Helena was gone. Sinna’s head fell back to the sand. She coughed dust out of her lungs, twitched her fingers, wriggled her toes, trying hard to ignore the sounds of fighting all around her. Heart in her throat, she pulled her hands in and pushed herself up. She raised her head in slow degrees, terrified of what she’d see.
And then she saw it, and came to understand why Aiden had warned her about Bryce.
The creature standing between her and an unconscious Helena was no longer human. His back was massive, bigger than it ought to have been, thick arms rippling with muscle, legs even more so. He balanced on the balls of his feet as if they were paws, hunched like a nightmarish werewolf of legend. His fingers were tipped with long black claws, furled and tense as if he was barely restraining himself. Each breath he took was a rumbling growl and, although he wasn’t looking at her, Sinna sensed he was acutely aware of everything around him. He knew when she sat back on her heels; his head raised a little, ribcage expanding in a massive inhale. He stiffened when crossbowmen surrounded him, but instead of lashing out, he backed toward Sinna to stand guard over her, relinquishing Helena without a fight.
“Bryce,” she whispered, barely a sound, and not one she’d intended to make.
He wheeled on her with a vicious snarl, and she gasped, scrambling away a few inches before she stopped herself. The familiar, scarred face of her companion was gone. In its place was a true monster with a flattened nose and a slightly protruding muzzle. His canines were three times their normal size and his eyes were all gold, no green. There was no comprehension or recognition in them. He didn’t see her, Sinna, only a moving, breathing target too close to him.
“Please.” She kept her voice low as she slowly climbed to her unsteady feet.
He snapped, and she flinched.
“It’s me!” But her courage didn’t extend beyond that plea, and she backed away from him. “It’s Sinna, remember?”
Bryce stalked her retreat.
“You don’t want to hurt me. I’m pack.”
His nose wrinkled as he snarled again. If she moved too fast, spoke too loudly, he’d tear her apart. His entire body shook with tension and he never blinked, even when he snapped at the soldiers they were approaching.
Men and women armed with lethal weapons retreated to a safer distance.
Sinna’s back hit the wall. “Bryce, it’s me,” she said.
He crowded her until she couldn’t move, hooked claws digging into logs to either side of her. When he raked them down, thick curls of wood peeled away beneath them.
“Please,” she whispered. “Please, remember.”
His beastly head lowered, and hot air puffed against her temple and ear. He sucked in air like a huge bellows, then blew it out on a growl.
In.
Sinna whimpered, squeezing her eyes shut.
Out.
She clutched the steady support at her back.
In. Out.
Breaths, not growls.
Again, and the breaths softened.
On the fourth inhale, the small distance between them grew, and he sighed her name.
“Bryce?”
His head briefly rested on her shoulder, before he fell to his knees.
Sinna opened her eyes. “Bryce!”
His arms wrapped around her legs. He was shaking, unsteady. Before her eyes his body changed, shrinking from monstrous proportions, back to normal human size. With his face buried against her stomach, Sinna couldn’t see his eyes change color. She didn’t see the fangs recede, or his nose take on its normal shape, but she felt the cracks and snaps as his bones rearranged. His breath hitched. He was in pain.
Sinna put her arms around him, not knowing what else to do. “It’s okay. You didn’t hurt me,” she said, over and over, but aside from clutching her tighter, he didn’t acknowledge the litany at all.
On some wordless command, the crossbowmen put their weapons down. Silence fell, with too many humans holding their breath, waiting for the monster to rear his head again.
And into that auspicious void, Helena made her presence known. “Well, isn’t that just the syrup on top of my pancakes.”
35: Desiree
The patient continues to be unresponsive to external stimuli. As best I can tell, his breathing is unobstructed and his heartbeat is steady. The wound has stopped bleeding, but his irises are still uneven.
Diagnosis: Coma.
Prognosis: Unless Dare wakes up or I can figure out how to feed him through a tube, he’s not going to last the week.
~
Desiree stayed in the lab after Klaus made his exit. With everything that needed doing around Dare, she didn’t have many opportunities to sit down, much less stroll about. It was tiring work, but it kept her busy and her mind from other things.
Like the hole in Haven’s defenses.
Or the supplies Arik was hopefully gathering for their great escape.
Or the Wolfen she was scheduled to torture again once she was done here.
Around noon, when Desiree started to feel the familiar pinch of agonizing back pain, Cassandra flounced into her lab as if she owned it, pretty blonde hair disheveled, sleeves rolled up and blouse still wet from washing. She hurried straight to Dare’s side and leaned over him to caress his face, ample bosoms pressing against his chest until he started wheezing.
“Please, come in. Make yourself at home,” Desiree said, in no mood to be cordial. Cassandra shouldn’t be pressing on Dare’s chest so hard; he had no conscious control of his diaphragm and couldn’t adjust his breathing to compensate. But then, knowing Dare, Desiree doubted he would mind. If she remembered correctly, Cassandra was a regular on his weekly ‘bang ‘em and mash ‘em,’ in-and-out tour.
The woman ignored her. “Dare, honey, wake up. It’s Cass. Can you hear me?”
Desiree rolled her eyes, and busied herself cleaning up the soiled linens and gauze. Such concern for
his welfare. Where had she been hours ago, when he’d been brought in?
“Come on, baby, open your eyes.”
“He’s in a coma,” Desiree said. “It’s not like he can follow orders. What do you want?”
Cassandra straightened, anxious expression cooling when she turned on Desiree. “I came to make sure you don’t try to do anything humane, like put him out of his misery, the way you did with Eroll last winter.”
Yeah, because it was always fun to look a dying man in the eye and tell him there was nothing more she could do for him. Eroll had caught pneumonia. His lungs had filled with so much fluid, he’d been drowning on dry land. He’d begged Desiree to help him. And then, later, he’d begged her to help him die.
But Cassandra didn’t know that. Why would she? Neither she, nor anyone else ever bothered to ask about Desiree’s patients. People saw them go in, and they prayed to whatever god they worshiped that the person would walk back out on their own. Often, they didn’t. And somehow, it always ended up being Desiree’s fault.
She scoffed and shook her head, so damned tired of this bullshit. Turning to toss the dirty linens into a wash bin, she muttered, “You stupid, ignorant bitch.”
“What did you say to me?”
“I said he’s in a coma,” she replied over her shoulder. “Did you not hear me? For all intents and purposes, your precious Dare is brain-dead. He can’t answer you. He can’t open his eyes. He can’t even control his bowels. You think he wants to live like that, to need someone to wipe his ass for him?”
Cassandra sneered. “You’d just love to make that decision for him, wouldn’t you?”
Desiree turned too fast, and her prosthesis twisted with a loud creak. She bit back a wince. “You want to play guardian angel? Fine. Then you take him. You watch over him and make sure he keeps breathing. And while you’re doing that, you can also figure out how to feed him so he doesn’t choke, since he can’t swallow food on his own!” She hobbled to the door and shoved it open. “You four,” she barked at the guards posted to keep an eye on her. “Get in here.”
They followed her into the lab, where Cassandra still seethed. “What’s going on?” one asked.
“Cassandra just volunteered to take over Dare’s care. You’ll be moving him to her house.”
“Cass?”
Panic flashed over Cassandra’s features; she was wholly ill-equipped to handle the chore. But as stubborn as she was, she pulled back her shoulders, puffed out her chest, and speared Desiree with a venomous look. “It’s all right. Go ahead and take him there. I’ll make sure he pulls through. And when he wakes up and tells everyone you were the one who attacked him, I’ll make sure to act really surprised.”
By the time they’d moved him out, Desiree was back on her crutch like an evil hag, and Frank himself was on guard duty at her door.
“Where’s Arik?” she demanded.
“He’s been removed from your detail until the investigation is finished.”
Desiree frowned with apprehension. “Why?”
“I have my reasons.”
She sighed. “Haven’t we already gone over this? I told you everything I knew.”
“We have.”
“So?”
“I wasn’t satisfied.”
“You still think I tried to kill Dare?”
“Did you?”
“If I did, rest assured he’d be dead now, and it sure as hell wouldn’t be from a blow to the head.”
Frank glanced around the lab. “No, I don’t suppose that’d be your style.”
Desiree huffed. “Look, either make yourself useful, or stand outside. I don’t have time for this.”
“You don’t seem overly concerned for someone being accused of attempted murder.”
“There aren’t that many possible outcomes to this scenario,” she told him. “Either I’m innocent—in which case, I have nothing to be concerned about—or I’m guilty, in which case you’ll need to prove it, present it before Klaus, and let him decide whether Dare’s life is more valuable than mine. I doubt he’ll rule against me.” Life was a bitch that way.
Frank smiled—not a friendly expression, at all. His ridiculously white teeth were too bright, too predatory against his dark chocolate complexion. This was when he was at his most dangerous. “All right. Have it your way. But I wouldn’t be getting comfortable yet if I were you. If there’s one thing I know about the boss, it’s that no one ever gets a free pass with him.” And he left the lab to stand guard outside.
Desiree lowered herself into a seat and sighed. Frank was right. Which was why she needed to talk to Arik.
But he didn’t show, and as the afternoon wore on, Frank returned to tell her everyone had been invited to the common hall for supper—meaning, be there, or else.
Shit.
As the cherry on top of that delightful sundae, Frank and the rest of the guards were called away at sunset, leaving Desiree to hobble across the market square on her own. By the time she got to the hall, everyone was already seated around long tables laden with food and drink—a veritable definition of garish excess. News about Dare and Cassandra had spread quickly, and people cast Desiree dirty looks as she passed. Conversations stopped, and then resumed in humming whispers once her back was turned. More than one person shifted to take up extra space on the benches so she couldn’t sit there. As if she’d want to, anyway.
Desiree inched toward the front-most table reserved for Klaus and his own, under the watchful eye of Frank seated on Klaus’ left tonight. She sat down on the very edge of the bench, far away from Klaus, and waited for the worst of her back pain to recede before she reached for a pitcher of mead.
Arik snatched it up first, and nudged her to move over as he poured himself a cup. “Great party,” he said.
“Yeah,” Desiree agreed, watching all of Haven’s population stare at her like a leper among them. “It’ll be talked about for years to come.”
Arik hummed in sarcastic agreement.
“Where were you earlier?”
“Frank had me combing the baths for signs of a breach.”
“And did you find any?”
“Fucking hole big enough to drive a truck through,” he answered into his cup.
“Shit,” she breathed. Not good. Very not good.
“Yeah, it gets better. Notice anything missing?”
“More like anyone,” she replied, voice low and her gaze away from Frank. Half the gunmen from his group weren’t in attendance, a curiosity disguised by the steady traffic of circling wenches.
“Klaus sent out a recon unit,” Arik said.
Desiree turned to him in surprise. Haven had been on lockdown since the last convert raid. They didn’t want to draw more attention to the compound. No one—absolutely no one—was allowed out after dark. “They went now?”
Arik nodded.
“To where?”
He shrugged. “Beats me. I wasn’t invited.”
Desiree frowned. Arik was one of Klaus’ best trackers. He should have been heading that unit, and giving orders. “What’s going on?”
Arik raised his cup to his mouth again, but didn’t drink. “If I had to guess, I wouldn’t.”
Desiree licked her lips in a nervous twitch and reached for the pitcher to pour herself as much mead as her cup could hold.
Bailey, one of Frank’s younger runners, jogged to a hard stop right inside the hall. He looked around, then ducked his head and made his way around the hall to say something to Frank.
“Did you get your end of things squared away?” Arik said, drawing her attention back to him.
Desiree gave a cautious nod.
Her supplies were ready to be grabbed in a hurry, tucked away in her lab. But every time she’d glanced at it today, one question kept popping into her head. “Why did you tell Klaus I was separating the fluids?”
Arik winced. “I crossed paths with him, and he wanted to know why I wasn’t guarding the lab. I panicked. Didn’t know what else to say, so
I told him you needed room to work on it, and that Dare was keeping watch.”
Bailey brushed past her on his way back out, and Desiree frowned at his hasty exit. “Seems like a great way to throw someone to the wolves. What if he’d wanted to check for himself?” she asked, keeping up the thread of conversation.
“He did,” Arik said. “I distracted him with something else.”
The hairs on the back of her neck prickled, making her shiver, and she turned to look at Frank again.
He was watching her in return. When their gazes met, he toasted her with his cup, smiling just a little.
Desiree swallowed hard. “I don’t believe you. That’s not something Klaus would just forget about.”
“He might have, if what I told him was more important.”
Frank was talking to three of his men, giving quiet orders of some sort. None of them looked Desiree’s way again, but something about that little huddle put her on edge. “What was more important than the Wolfen?” she asked Arik.
Her potential accomplice faced forward again without answering. “Just do what you always do, and be ready. When the time comes, you’ll know.”
At the other end of their bench, Klaus pushed his throne back and stood, raising his hands for silence. Not everyone saw him, but everyone heard his guards drumming their blades on the tables. The hall quieted, and Desiree counted: one… two… three… Klaus started every one of his speeches this way. Just like his role model, Adolf Hitler, Klaus was a stellar orator and always began with complete silence, making sure he had the attention of every last man, woman, and child, before he wasted precious breath speaking to them.
“We have a traitor in our midst.”
Gasps and a shocked buzz of conversation met the announcement, and Desiree felt the world shift beneath her feet.
Klaus stopped speaking until everyone had shut up. “Our perimeter has been breached, und one of our own has been attacked in cold blood!” For all of his passionate delivery, his accent was tightly controlled, belying his outrage. He didn’t give a shit about Dare; couldn’t care less about a perimeter breach, when he had a small army to make sure his ass stayed safe. No, this was a carefully orchestrated farce, one whose ending Desiree feared she knew.
Wolfen Page 35