Wolfen

by Alianne Donnelly

  “You son of a bitch,” she whispered to Arik, but couldn’t tear her gaze away from Klaus.

  “There is one among us who has shown no regard for our rules. One who thinks exceptions will be made. One whose small rebellions have escalated to proportions we will no longer ignore!”

  Desiree turned to Arik, expecting him to gloat, but he, too, stared at Klaus, frowning. “What the shit?”

  Frank motioned to Bailey by the door, and the runner entered with the pimply-faced Nick and a stuffed pack. They brought it forward and emptied its contents onto Klaus’ table. One by one, guns fell out, along with ammunition, knives, plastic packages of chemicals, meats, cheeses, bread… A proper bug-out bag that would have kept someone alive for one hell of a long time.

  Klaus looked it over, and shook his head in sorrow. “And if all that was not enough, this person planned the ultimate betrayal: to steal from us und leave Haven for good.”

  “Tell me that’s not yours,” Arik said in a harsh whisper.

  “Where the hell would I have gotten any of that?” she snapped. “Is it yours?”

  Arik’s eye twitched, and he swore, subtly shaking his head.

  Havenites leapt to their feet, shouting for justice, demanding to know who the traitor was, while Klaus’ guards vaulted the table to take a stand around him. The rest of the gunmen stood away from the table, slowly preparing to strike. Frank pushed to his feet, winking at Desiree.

  “It pains me that these crimes could be perpetrated by someone so close to me,” Klaus said. “By my own flesh und blood.”

  “Whuh…?”

  There was a guard at her back; she hadn’t even seen him move into position. He grabbed her arm, yanked her out, and Desiree screamed in pain as her prosthesis caught on the bench and tore across her thigh. “Are you kidding me?” she cried. “What is wrong with you?”

  No one was listening. Klaus had named the culprit, and he’d chosen well. Every single person in the hall was chanting for her death.

  Desiree twisted from the guard, pulling on her arm to free herself, but she had no leverage or balance. “I didn’t do anything! You crazy fucking asshole! Tell them I didn’t do anything!”

  Frank smiled and shook his head.

  Klaus raised his chin a notch at the insult, but said nothing. His men already had their orders.

  “No! Let go of me!” Desiree struggled as the guard dragged her around the table and toward the door. People screamed at her, shoved, slapped, threw anything within reach, besides food. They wouldn’t waste sustenance on a traitor. “I didn’t do anything!”

  Arik grabbed her free arm and lifted with the other guard so her feet were off the floor as they rushed her out. “Stop fighting,” he said into her ear. “It won’t do you any good.”

  Desiree screamed in his face, thrashed her head, but within moments they were outside, the angry mob following them across the market square toward the tunnels. They’d laid out a neat little path of torches, like a sacrificial light trail. Flames blurred, stars flashed above her. Desiree blinked and there was darkness as they entered the tunnels. The mob didn’t follow them that far. The noise dulled the deeper they went, until Desiree only heard her own echoing screams. “No! Let go of me!”

  They tossed her into a cell and slammed the metal door shut, locks tumbling into place with deafening finality. Desiree felt lightheaded, unable to catch her breath. Total darkness caged her into her own panic; her skin felt too tight, her eyes were open too far, but she couldn’t close them longer than a blink. Her thigh burned and throbbed; she was bleeding, but couldn’t even see the wound to staunch the flow. Terrified, she sought a frame of reference, and found a thin shaft of light spearing in through the keyhole. Dragging her bad leg behind her, she crawled to the door to look out. “What’s going on?” she demanded, her voice unsteady. “Why am I here?”

  She needed Arik to tell her this was somehow part of the plan, that he had everything under control and they’d be getting out any minute.

  But Arik didn’t answer. “You know what hurts me most?” Klaus asked. “Is that you thought I would not know.”

  “W-what did I do?”

  “You betrayed me,” he hissed. “You tried to make a fool out of me!”

  “Klaus, I don’t know what you’re talking about! Frank set me up!”

  “Ya, of course he did. Frank put that pack under your bed. Just like he destroyed the Wolfen’s semen, und almost killed poor Dare.”

  “Yes!”

  “I do not believe you.”

  “I’m telling the truth!”

  “Lie,” Alpha said from the cell across from her.

  “You shut up!” she snapped.

  She was supposed to be untouchable! How could Klaus turn on her like this? He needed her!

  “I know you are too much like your mother. Incapable to distinguish trus from lie.” His voice grew softer. He was walking away! “We are finished, Dee. You are finished.”

  Desiree couldn’t breathe.

  “Well, isn’t this interesting,” Alpha purred. “Gotta say I didn’t see that coming.”

  “Stop it,” she wheezed.

  “Little helpless, one-legged Desiree. Traitor. Almost killed poor Dare. Now, which one was he again?”

  Desiree moaned, curling in on herself. “Stop it. Just stop!”

  “Big daddy can’t help you now, little bird.” Bang!

  Desiree wailed. Not that again! Please! “Arik!” she screamed.

  Bang!

  “Might as well get used to this. You ain’t getting out.”

  Bang!

  Desiree pressed her hands to her ears. “Arik! Please! Someone—let me out!”

  Bang!

  “And it’s a good day from morning ‘til night.”

  Bang!

  Bang!

  Bang!

  Bang!

  36: Aiden

  I perform my greatest adlib yet. Does the witch even clap? No.

  Torment is no fun when I can’t get a rise out of my victim. She doesn’t respond to my taunts and insults, doesn’t care that the door banging is completely out of rhythm with my song, and the air is too still and too stale down here to scent mood changes.

  After a while, I get bored and stop.

  Her sigh is almost inaudible, but it’s enough to tell me she’s still alive and conscious. Hopefully not for long.

  The only thing worse than being locked up underground, is being locked up underground with a person who doesn’t appreciate the nuance of fine, old world music.

  Maybe some Tuvan throat singing is in order.

  ~

  Whole hours passed with Desiree uttering nothing more than an occasional hiss of pain, which was enough to drive Aiden bonkers. Being alone and quiet was one thing—he couldn’t very well expect the walls to start talking—but knowing another person was within earshot and she refused to speak? Inconceivable! It was like she knew how to push his buttons.

  Aiden needed noise. Conversation—well, argument. A proper jaw-clenching, teeth-grinding, foul-mouthed fight. He was entitled, goddammit!

  Peg Leg Desiree refused to be goaded into one. Bitch.

  “So. Adding cold-blooded murder to your resume. Pretty impressive, what with the mad scientist degree, emphasis on creative torture techniques.”

  “He’s not dead.” Aha! Apparently, all he had to do to get her talking was talk back. Who knew? “He’s just in a coma.”

  “Oh, is that all?”

  “And I’m not mad.”

  Aiden snorted.

  “And I didn’t torture anyone!”

  “I have two scrambled eggs and a blood sausage that say otherwise.”

  “Oh, give me a break. You healed, didn’t you? And I said I was sorry.”

  Aiden gnashed his teeth. “And that makes it all okay in your book, right? No lasting damage, so no harm done. Oh, that’s right. I’m not human. Ergo, I can’t feel pain.”

  Hiss. “Cry me a river.” She moaned, then took a few
deep breaths.

  “I don’t suppose it ever occurred to you it wasn’t my pain that did the most damage.” Aiden had been out of his head for hours, and when the hallucinations had finally stopped, he remembered what they’d needed his juice for, and he’d almost lost it. How many of those females would get impregnated? How many would die before they carried to term? And what would these sick fucks do to the pups?

  “Didn’t you hear?” she said through gritted teeth. “Your semen was destroyed.”

  Aiden stilled. He had heard Klaus mention something about that, but hadn’t dared to hope.

  Sigh. “Don’t get too excited. It just means they’ll do it again. Maybe this time they’ll go with the original plan: tying you up in the open and charging admission for the show. Did you know convert venom doesn’t dissipate on its own? It’s the hormones that flood your system when sperm is released that make it break down. It was in your bloodstream for seconds with me. Imagine how long someone with a grudge will keep you frozen, all those nasty things they’ll be able to do while you can’t defend yourself before they finish it.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “So I’m supposed to be grateful to you?”

  “I don’t expect a bouquet of flowers, but a ‘thank you’ might be nice! You’re fucking welcome. Asshole.”

  “Oh, you are some piece of work, you know that?”

  She laughed bitterly. “Yeah, fat lot of good it does me, too.”

  Aiden shoved to his feet to pace. The cell only allowed him two almost-full strides on the diagonal, which pissed him off even more. He needed to move. Run, swim, box…something besides sit around and listen to this bullshit. Out of other options, he inverted himself into a handstand and started doing push-ups. Ten. Fifteen. Twenty.

  Not enough!

  His claws itched to do damage. The walls were closing in on him until he felt them pressing on his chest. He punched one so hard, the skin over his knuckles split and tore. By the time he flexed his hand and curled his fingers into a fist again, the wound had healed. For days he’d been locked up. No sun, no wind, and not once had he felt as stir-crazy as he did after minutes of talking to the bitch.

  She was right there. Five feet away. So close, he could take her out with a fucking pebble, if not for the doors keeping them apart.

  And that son of a bitch, Klaus! He’d tossed her in there just to fuck with both of them.

  Chill. Breathe. Let it go. Aiden took a deep breath and held it. Time is a river. Let it flow. He sat down, closed his eyes, and forced himself to hold still, the same way he’d done all those times he’d watched Bryce get dragged out of his cell to fight for human amusement. He sat, because he could do nothing else. He breathed in a steady rhythm, because it was his only way of telling time. He closed his eyes, because he didn’t want to see the desperate faces of his kind looking to him for help he couldn’t provide. So he could better hear his brother roar his fury.

  Aiden had never told Bryce, but he felt it—every time Bryce wolfed out, Aiden felt it like a shift in gravity, and he silently cheered his brother on, willed him to keep going. At least one of them should get to fight this goddamned hate out of their system. Rage it out, tear shit apart until nothing was left but hollow lethargy. Relief. A plateau of numbness, before the old flame of anger stoked back up again.

  So he sat, and he breathed, and he let the world fall away until the bad had receded to a hum of a faraway beehive.

  BANG!

  “Oh God, not this again!”

  Aiden slowly opened his eyes.

  BANG!

  “Can you give it a rest for five minutes?”

  BANG!

  He pressed his ear to the door.

  “Flattered as I am that my percussion skills have left a lasting impression, that wasn’t me.” Aiden waited for another strike, but it didn’t come.

  “What the hell was it, then?” she asked, apprehension creeping into her voice.

  Distant running footsteps made Aiden’s ear twitch, and he focused on the sound, his mind filling in the blanks to paint the scene: a harrowed, thin little man was running for his life, gait uneven, tired. He wheezed, fighting for breath. A shift in the sound said the man turned to look behind him. Mistake. He stumbled, fell, sobbed, before he scrambled to his feet again and ran past the cells.

  “Hello?” Desiree called.

  The man didn’t hear her.

  “Who’s there?” she tried again, unaware the runner was already long gone.

  “Shut up,” Aiden snapped, needing to concentrate. He shifted to press his nose to the gap beneath the door, sucked in a sharp breath, and huffed it out to clear his nose of familiar scents, then breathed in deeply.

  Air didn’t flow down in the tunnels. Scents were too slow to reach him, but his ears picked up what his nose missed.

  The familiar sound of shuffling feet—many of them.

  Aiden pulled back, unsure if his mind was still playing tricks on him. “You hear that?” he asked, keeping his voice low.

  “Hear what?” Desiree whispered.

  He shook off her distracting voice to tune back into the sounds deeper down the tunnel. Something creaked, but it wasn’t mechanical. A series of croaks and clicks crackled in the darkness, interspersed with chuffing hisses of predators stalking a scent. The runner must have had enough of a head start to keep out of sight, but these things followed their noses, not their eyes. The trail he’d left behind was too fresh for them to miss.

  They were coming.

  “Alpha?” Desiree called, voice small, frightened. On any other day, Aiden would savor it. Right now, he had bigger issues.

  He gritted his teeth against telling her to shut up again.

  One of the creatures emitted a long drone, and like some sort of sonar, it bounced off of the stone walls, sound waves compounding one on top of the other, until Aiden’s head felt ready to explode. He slapped his hands over his ears, but it didn’t help.

  “Aiden,” Desiree said, louder this time, more insistent.

  A woman screamed aboveground. A convert screech cut her off. Then all Aiden heard from up there was a lot of people dying.

  “Oh, my God…”

  The drone cut off. Footsteps stopped.

  Aiden pushed to his feet and backed away from the door, holding his breath.

  “To the tunnels! Move!”

  “Get out! Get out now!”

  Crying, terrified people ran down the ramp and into the tunnels meant to be their last hope of escape. They didn’t make it far; a horde of converts flooded in from the other end and overwhelmed the refugees, taking them back out on a tide of ravenous snarls.

  The scent of blood, mixed with the unmistakable stench of convert rot, hit Aiden so hard, he nearly doubled over. Wavering on his feet, he braced himself against the door as a mammoth dose of adrenaline raised his hackles, made his back bow and his jaw ache. His claws dug into metal and screeched down along the door’s surface.

  “Mommy!” a child screamed.

  Aiden knew that voice.

  He roared, and slammed the flat of his hand against the door, making it shudder. Muscles strained, tensed, forcing him up onto the balls of his feet. His eyesight sharpened, and he could see even the smallest detail as if it were high noon in his cell. A wave of fear flared his nostrils, and with a series of cracks, his face snapped into a different shape.

  Aiden struck the door again. And again. And again. He shook his head, needing to think, but there was only one coherent thought he could hold onto: Destroy.

  Rage like he’d never known before burned through his veins, demanding he get out and tear heads from bodies—NOW! Aiden struck the door, threw his weight against it, clawed at the stone around the hinges.

  Running footsteps stopped just on the other side. “Hope you’re ready to rock and roll, big guy,” a man said, and the tumblers clacked into place. The man backed away in a hurry when Aiden pushed through. “Shit…” Shock. Fear. But the bastard didn’t run.

  Aiden s
talked forward, backing the bug-eyed bastard as far as the wall would allow, bared his fangs and flared his claws, all but salivating for a taste of his blood.

  “You want Klaus,” the human said.

  Aiden snarled.

  “He’s that way.”

  Aiden’s growl built into a blood-curdling roar as he loped up the ramp toward the surface, diving head-first into the battle.

  37: Desiree

  Oh, God, it’s happening!

  Desiree couldn’t stop shaking. She could hear converts up there, the horrible screams punctuated by rapid gunfire, and she knew it wouldn’t last. They didn’t have enough ammo. Haven was overrun.

  Her mind refused to wrap around that concept.

  Haven was falling.

  Without warning, without any hope of escape, everything Klaus had built was being trampled into blood.

  Those walls, made to keep converts out, now locked everyone in with them. Voices blended together; there were too many, wave upon wave of howling terror. And the beasts would come for Desiree next.

  Raised to worship science, Desiree had never understood the point of religion. Now, in the darkness of her worst nightmare, she clasped her hands together and prayed. A hopeless, frantic litany of pleas slipped through her lips on a whisper. I want to live, she thought. I need to live. Please God, get me out of here—

  “You want Klaus…he’s that way.”

  The roar of a Wolfen in full rage shook her cell door, and Desiree shrank away, instinctively squeezing herself into a dark corner. Alpha was out. He said he’d kill her. But Wolfen females were dying out there, too. He would try to save them first, and maybe he’d never make it that far. There was a horde of converts reaping Haven up there. They’d rip him apart in minutes.

  The thought should have brought her some relief, but it didn’t. Right now, Alpha…Aiden was possibly the only being within a thousand miles who stood a chance against those things, and deep down, where she rarely braved to go, Desiree hoped he would make it. She’d rather die at his claws, than in the clutches of converts.