Wolfen

by Alianne Donnelly

  And the monster turned on her.

  With a broken cry, Desiree scrambled to get away, terrified to even blink while it stalked her retreat. It growled and twitched its claws, relishing the chase, savoring her fear before it would rip into her. She tore her gaze from it, turning onto her side to get up.

  It latched onto her prosthesis, and with a sharp twist-and-yank meant to bring her to heel, the artificial leg detached in its claws. Desiree barely felt the pain of her wound reopening. But it brought her head back around to the monster.

  The Wolfen snarled at the contraption, bashed it on the ground so hard, it shattered to splinters. With a renewed anger, it reached out and caught her good ankle this time, yanking to bring her beneath it.

  Desiree cowered, but morbid curiosity made her look up, and she stared into the eyes of death. They weren’t the emotionless pits of madness she’d seen in Klaus. No, this creature was filled with anger and hate; it didn’t kill indiscriminately, but chose its victims with care, and now those burnished golden orbs told her she was next. She’d had a hand in hurting it, threatening its females, locking it away in a black cell; it knew she was afraid, and it moved slowly, deliberately, one single claw tracing her clavicle, leaving a thin line of blood in its wake. Without a word, the monster promised her death would be neither quick, nor painless, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

  A shot rang out, and the monster jerked. It turned its head sideways, snarling a complaint.

  Bang! Another shot.

  The monster reared.

  Bang! Bang! Bang!

  The final bullet tore through its neck and sprayed Desiree with hot blood that ran in tiny rivulets across her cuts and scrapes. Her skin crawled.

  The monster wavered, then dropped like a sack of potatoes.

  Desiree wiped her face and neck, trying to shove the dead weight off of her at the same time. It was already morphing back, shrinking down to the familiar shape of Aiden. Not dead. Not for long. His muscles deflated like overfilled balloons; his claws fell off, replaced by human nails. He was still alive, his body regenerating.

  Arik rushed over to pull her out. “He’s going to wake up any minute,” she warned, eyes roaming away from the Wolfen only long enough to look for Frank—dead, lying face down in a pool of his own blood. “We need to get out of here.”

  Aiden’s face morphed back with a snap, crackle, and pop that made Desiree flinch back around to keep track of his transformation. Bruises were blooming and just as quickly dissolving into clear, tanned skin. If he were conscious, he’d be in agony.

  “Or I could just end this right now,” Arik offered, leveling a handgun at the Wolfen. Though Aiden’s body lay still, it wasn’t done healing yet. One by one, the bullets still lodged in him pushed out and rolled off, holes shrinking, closing until not a hint of scar remained. Arik adjusted his aim, rightly guessing a shot to the head would take Aiden out for good.

  “No!” Out of nowhere, ten-year-old Casey came running, knife in hand. She slashed at Arik. “Get away from him!”

  “What—hey, watch it!” Arik shoved at her just enough to make her back off.

  Casey fell onto her backside and dropped her knife, but came right back, beating at Arik and kicking his shins. “Don’t you hurt him!” the girl screamed. “Get away!”

  “Easy, tiger.”

  Desiree shared a look with Arik. Neither of them had considered the possibility of a child tagging along; they weren’t equipped for it, especially when that child was throwing some kind of tantrum. But they couldn’t leave her out here, either. That was a death sentence.

  “Casey, stop it,” Desiree ordered. “Come on, we need to get out of here.” Aiden could wake up any second. “We have a car! Don’t you want to take a ride in a car?”

  “I’m not going anywhere with you!” Casey punctuated her words with slaps, alternating between hitting her and Arik. One lucky punch caught Desiree right across her torn-up stump.

  Sharp pain shot up her spine and made her see stars. “That’s enough!” she snapped, voice raw and hoarse. “You stop this right now and come with us, or when that monster wakes up, I’m going to let him eat y—”

  “He came back for me!”

  Desiree stared. “What?”

  Casey, face flushed and streaked with tears, backed toward the unconscious Wolfen, picking up her knife to protect him. “He came back and got me. Where were you, huh?”

  Arik looked at the girl as if she’d just sprouted another head.

  Desiree wasn’t so sure she hadn’t. “No, you’re confused,” she said. “He wouldn’t have… They’re not like… He’s dangerous—”

  “He’s my friend,” Casey declared. “And I won’t let you hurt him.”

  Behind her, Aiden stirred.

  Arik tightened his arm around Desiree. “We need to move. Now. Right now, Dez—move!”

  “Wait, we can’t just leave her here!”

  “We stay, somebody dies, and it’ll most likely be us.”

  Aiden groaned and, without any hesitation, Casey turned her back on them, crouching to help him sit up. Desiree couldn’t look away, torn between fear screaming at her to run, and some foreign maternal instinct she never knew she possessed, demanding she save the child no matter how inconvenient.

  Arik raised his gun again, but didn’t have a clear shot with Casey hovering over Aiden.

  “Are you okay?” Casey asked.

  Aiden winced and popped his neck. “Gimme a second, baby girl.”

  She threw her arms around him, almost knocking him back down. “I thought you left me!”

  “Dez…” Arik warned.

  Desiree shook her head. To her utter shock, Aiden returned the girl’s embrace ever so gently, huffed, and muttered a gruff, “Never.” Then he lifted his gaze to her and Arik, and the chill of his hatred went straight to her very soul.

  “Give us the kid,” Arik said, “and I’ll let you live.”

  Against her protests, Aiden set Casey aside and pushed to his feet. “Awful lot of people trying to kill me today, and I just keep bouncing back. Getting kind of tired of it, tell you the truth. So how about I just rip your head off instead?”

  “No, stop it!” Casey cried, hugging his legs.

  He laid a hand on top of her head in a sort of hugging pat, but never took his eyes off of Arik. “It’s okay, Casey. He won’t feel a thing.”

  “You think I’m scared?” Arik taunted. “Bring it on. I can take you, easy.” But he didn’t move, and he didn’t shoot.

  Aiden noticed.

  “I don’t want you to fight,” Casey said. “They said they have a car. Aiden?”

  “Yeah, baby girl?”

  “I want a car.”

  The look on his face was almost comical.

  “Look,” Desiree chimed in, “how about we make a deal?”

  Aiden snarled at her. “Already made one. Interestingly”—he transferred his gaze to Arik—“it didn’t include getting shot in the back.”

  “Me and mine, that was the deal.”

  “Klaus and the bitch was the deal,” Aiden spat.

  “You won’t kill us,” Desiree realized. “Not with the girl watching.”

  “Casey, close your eyes,” Aiden said.

  “Okay, okay!” Arik pointed his gun at the sky. “Shit happened, things got crazy, but you’re out, Klaus is dead, and we’re alive. Seems both of us made out good. Now listen. There are several cars Klaus has stashed away. Fully stocked, plenty of gas, good tires. One of those could get you to Timbuktu if you wanted. And she’s the only one who knows how to find them.” He motioned to Desiree.

  “You assume I need all that shit.”

  “I think you do,” Desiree said. “You still have your brother and that girl out there somewhere. I’m betting you want to go find them. It’d be a lot faster with a car.”

  Aiden bared his teeth. “Using my own against me to get your way. How very human.”

  Arik broke Aiden’s stare. “You gi
ve us your word we can all walk away from this, give us the girl, and we’ll take you to the convoy. We go our way, you go yours, no hard feelings. We never have to see each other again.”

  “Girl stays with me.”

  “I didn’t know Wolfen knew how to raise a human,” Desiree said. The words came out without passing any sort of mental filter, and she regretted them instantly.

  Aiden’s eyes paled several shades, glowing with murderous fury. “I didn’t realize there was a difference in how to love a child.”

  A convert screamed in the cavernous ruins of Haven, and Desiree flinched. That couldn’t mean anything good. They couldn’t stand here forever. Two dead bodies and a bleeding leg was a veritable invitation to banquet. Someone had to take the leap of faith to break this stand-off, and it didn’t look likely coming from Aiden.

  Desiree gave a cautious nod. “All right. It’s eight miles to the convoy. Two guns are always better than one.”

  Though he’d proposed it, now that it was time to stand by his decision, Arik balked. “No. Not when one of them is pointed at your back. This is a bad idea.”

  Aiden growled.

  To show the Wolfen how much she didn’t fear him, Desiree dragged her stare away to address Arik. “He needs a car, and we need him to watch our backs. We can stay civil for eight miles. For the girl, if nothing else.” She said the last for Aiden’s benefit, and it heartened her that he didn’t argue.

  Arik was a different story. “You can’t be serious!” he snapped.

  “We get to the cars first, and sort the rest out later. How’s that sound?”

  “Like a whole lot of bullshit,” Arik said.

  They didn’t have another choice. “Survival of the fittest,” she said, watching an ugly sneer spread across Aiden’s face. “And right now, that’s him.”

  40: Aiden

  There are moments in life that just scream soundtrack and a bunch of killer tunes to set the mood. Since a radio won’t be forthcoming, I supply the background music inside my head, and right now my song of choice is the theme from Jaws.

  It’s not hard to figure out the equation here. Those two yahoos think something’s going to change when we reach their precious convoy; that they’ll magically gain the upper hand. They don’t get it. Humans never do.

  When everything turns to shit, it doesn’t matter how powerful you used to be or how good you used to have it. All that matters is how fast you can run, how hard you can fight, and how much pain you can take.

  No one can beat Wolfen in the game of survival. It’s what we were made for.

  ~

  Eight miles as the cripple hopped turned into hours of dragging across the dry wasteland through the worst heat of the day, with little shade and even less water. Whatever Arik had in his pack—and Aiden knew he did—he wasn’t pulling it out, even though he had to be suffering as much as the rest of them.

  Casey had started flagging, so Aiden picked her up to let her sleep against his shoulder. Poor little tyke had had a hell of a day. He was surprised she’d lasted this long.

  After a while, they reached the end of the artificially cleared no man’s land, and a handful of trees shaded them from the worst of the sun. But just when the conditions had gotten better, allowing for more speed, the witch decided she’d had enough.

  “Stop,” she said. “I can’t go any farther.” She was pale, lips dry and colorless. “Losing too much blood.” She’d left a steady drip in her wake, but she was covered in blood, the same as him. He’d figured it was runoff.

  Arik set her down and removed his pack, proffering a canteen to her. “What do you need?” he asked. Helpful lad.

  After a quick drink—which she didn’t bother to pass on to others who might also be thirsty—Desiree rolled up her soaked pant leg as far as it’d go. Her stump was bruised black and blue, and there was a jagged tear across the front of her thigh, oozing blood. A damaged vein. Lucky injury. Damn it.

  “Cauterize it,” Aiden suggested, impatient to get going again.

  Desiree glared. “No.” Emphatic much?

  Aiden shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He found a comfortable nook between tree roots, and set Casey down so he could stretch.

  “Can you get a fire going? I’ll need to sterilize some stuff.” For a second, Aiden thought she spoke to him. But when he turned around to tell her exactly what he could do, Arik the Hero had already launched into action, clearing an area and gathering wood.

  Aiden rolled his eyes. “Burning works faster,” he said. “I’ll even help.”

  “Mind your own damn business.”

  Okay, so maybe that had come out a little too eager. Seeing she wouldn’t budge, Aiden shook his head and sat down to keep an eye on them. Don’t pander to idiots. It makes them think they’re entitled to your time. He settled in, pretending to take a nap, but kept an eye on Desiree, curious about what she’d do next.

  While Arik got the fire going nice and hot, Desiree rummaged through his pack and sighed with relief when she found a small black tin. “God love you, Arik.” She pulled out a curved needle already threaded with artificial sutures.

  “I grabbed what I could, but it’s not much. Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

  “You got a better idea?” she asked.

  “No.”

  Aiden opened his mouth, but Desiree cut him off. “Nobody asked you, Wolfen.”

  He shrugged. “As you wish, human. You may commence entertaining me.”

  Arik pulled out bandages, a bottle of alcohol Aiden could smell from where he sat, and a container of honey. A walking pharmacy, that one.

  Desiree rinsed her hands with some of the alcohol and, biting down on her lower lip, poured more over the open wound. She twitched, bit back a moan of pain, and Aiden waited for her to pass out.

  She didn’t. A few harsh breaths later, she nodded an “okay” to Arik, then got down to work. Desiree sterilized the needle over the flame and dipped it, and the length of suture, into alcohol to be doubly sure.

  Now comes the fun part.

  She brought the needle to her skin, and hesitated. No anesthesia.

  Already seeing this would take all damned day, Aiden drummed his fingers on his stomach to give himself something to do.

  Chill. Breathe. Let it go. Time is…

  Nope. Not working. “You want me to knock you out?” he asked. Anything to speed things up.

  Desiree gritted her teeth, sucked in a deep breath and stuck the needle in with a shaking hand. Once it was through the other side, she breathed out and paused before pulling the suture taut.

  Still not passing out.

  Aiden was impressed. And amused by the idiocy. Wasted effort, if you asked him. No way she could keep that clean for any length of time. She should have cauterized it.

  Needle in, sniffle of pain, needle out.

  “Two down, at least fifteen more to go.”

  “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” she bit out.

  Aiden grinned. “Hell yeah. This is better than Sunday morning cartoons.”

  “Then killing Klaus must have been ever-so-fun for you.” Stitch.

  He raised an eyebrow, dropping the nap act. “You going to pretend you’re not glad he’s dead?”

  “I’m just surprised you didn’t take more time to savor it.” Stitch.

  “Maybe I’m saving that pleasure for you,” he returned, fangs aching. “Next best thing.”

  “Can’t argue with that.” Desiree winced as she pulled another stitch tight. “I am his legacy. Decades of Wolfen research notes preserved in my eidetic memory. I could easily recreate it if I wanted to. All those tests and treatments, every success and failure.”

  Aiden’s hackles rose, but he breathed the anger down. “I’m sure the day he named us was a triumphant highlight in his memoirs.”

  Another stitch, and she paused, breathing hard. “He didn’t name you. He factored you.”

  Aiden huffed and closed his eyes, done with this conversation. “Wh
atever.”

  “What do you mean ‘factored’?” By the sound of Arik’s voice, he’d only asked to keep her talking. Seriously, what was with this dude? Was he sweet on her or something? There must have been better choices in Haven than this evil hag.

  Desiree slurred her answer, pain loosening her tongue, so Aiden let her talk. Maybe she’d say something honest for once. “Wolfen were engineered in litters. There was a specific timetable for each hatch, and Klaus developed a way to catalog the specimens based on their litter and their level of aggression in early trials. Greek letters for the litter, number for the aggression factor. One through nine. Highest to lowest. Males usually ranked a three or four, females closer to eights and nines. Ones and twos were the most aggressive and had the highest conversion rate, almost ninety-seven percent.”

  Aiden opened his eyes. “All right, I call bullshit.”

  Desiree shook her head, eyes heavy-lidded. She was almost done with the sutures; just a few left, but her sewing hand was quickly going limp. “No bullshit. All up here.” She tapped her temple.

  “Then explain Beta Twelve to me.”

  She smiled drunkenly. “Knew you’d ask. He’s not a twelve, that’s just easier to say. He’s a one-two. Factor one, version two. Clone. The original converted.”

  “Bullshit,” Aiden snapped. “If he’d converted, why the fuck would they have made another copy?”

  Desiree sighed and shook her head again, this time to rouse herself a little. “Why do you think? They were testing different hatching environments and their effects on the fetus. Turns out, you’re all like little alligator eggs.”

  “Okay, I’m confused,” Arik declared, guiding Desiree’s hand in the final stitch.

  Aiden wasn’t. He was pissed.

  “Nest temperature determines the sex of hatchling alligators. A few degrees difference is all it takes. These guys, same thing. Thirty-four Celsius, and when the time comes, you get Wolfen. Thirty-two and below, voila, a convert freaks out at two months and bites off an orderly’s fingers for an evening snack. In between is the gray area. Babies hatch, don’t know what they are for years until they transition, and the later it happens, the more likely they are to be bad to the bone.”