by Laura Taylor
“Destroyer-Wolf,” Baron answered, gaze still fixed on the wolf in the cage. “There’s a prophecy in the journals. It speaks of an ancient wolf who will return one day and herald the end of days for our kind. Able to separate man from wolf, she will return us to the natural order, one species or another, reversing a creation that should never have been made.” He turned to face her finally, sadness in his eyes. “The undoing of the mistakes of Faeydir-Ul. It seems you are that wolf.”
Speechless didn’t even begin to cover it. Dee gaped at Baron, then at the wolf in the cage. So, this was the prophecy that had had everyone walking on eggshells when she’d first arrived, the one everyone knew about, and yet no one would speak of. She was not just a wolf with a powerful and destructive gift, but the harbinger of the end of their species.
Her? Little Dee Carman who couldn’t kill a spider and still cringed every time Faeydir ate a dead rabbit? “I don’t want to hurt anyone-” she began, then stopped, seeing the cold glare from the Watch, and knowing that her protests would carry little weight. She had killed one of their own, after all, and the Den would not be at all forgiving if the situation were reversed and a member of the Watch had killed someone from Il Trosa.
Then, in a sudden wave of clarity, she realised that this confrontation was the least of their current problems. “Are you handing me over to the Grey Watch?” she asked bluntly.
Baron snorted. “No.”
“And are you going to put me down?”
“For killing a member of the Grey Watch? Again, no.” The word was said with cold finality, his gaze cool and steady as he stared down Sempre-Ul.
The woman’s eyes narrowed. “She will be the death of us all. Mark my words, Baron, this woman is a curse among you.”
Baron pulled back his coat revealing the gun at his hip. “You trespass on my territory and threaten one of my pack. Trust me, Sempre. Right now, Dee is the least of your concerns.”
Sempre glanced at the gun, then at Andre, standing impassively to the side, then at John.
“You will regret this day,” she told him coldly. “As will we all.” She gathered her cloak around her, gave Dee one last, cold look, then the women turned and climbed back into their van. The wheels spun, tossing up a cloud of dust, then they gripped the road and the van hurtled away.
The gathered Den members were silent. Dee felt their eyes on her, the full weight of their fear and apprehension finally making sense. She looked at each of them, her gaze falling on Andre last of all. Well. That put a whole new light on her Council ‘assessment’.
“All right, you slack-arses,” Baron announced suddenly. “We all have better things to be doing. Simon, get back to Skip and the computers. Find me some information on that lab. Raniesha, you should be building bombs. John, Silas, get the weapons ready. Caleb, in Tank’s absence, you’re 2IC. I’ll see you in the library in ten minutes. Move it, people!”
The group scattered and moments later, only five people were left at the gate: Baron and Caroline, Mark and Dee, and Andre, as silent and impassive as always.
Dee turned to Baron, a tight knot in her gut. “Did you know what I am?”
Baron was silent for a moment. “Yes. And no.” He sighed and headed slowly for the house, Dee falling in beside him. “Since you arrived and we realised your wolf was a separate being from you, there have been rumours. Concerns. People know of the prophecy and were understandably cautious.”
“Then why didn’t you say anything?”
Another pause. This wasn’t important, Dee reminded herself. They had a war to start, a wolf to rescue, and then there was the lab. If Tank had been taken to the same place she had – a likely scenario, given the Noturatii’s desire to learn how to create shifters – then he was probably being tortured right now, along with any new ‘test subject’ they tried to convert.
“Because I’m not prone to jumping at shadows and believing stories that were made up by people who believed that the earth was flat,” Baron said finally.
“What?” That made no sense.
“I don’t believe the stories of Faeydir-Ul. As far as I can tell, they were made up by shifters generations after our species came into existence, as a way of trying to make sense of a gift they couldn’t understand.” He frowned. “And I was perfectly comfortable with that neat little explanation until you showed up and your wolf insisted that she existed before she was merged with you.” Well, what do you know? Baron actually sounded perplexed, pulled for once out of his own solid view of the world. “And then for some reason, shifters also needed a bogey man, a tale to scare small children with at night. So Fenrae-Ul was invented, the end of days for our kind, as a warning to be careful who you convert and to keep an eye on anyone who seems a little odd, or they might just end your species.”
“And yet here I am,” Dee pointed out. “Able to separate human from wolf. The embodiment of your prophecy.”
Baron shrugged. “But that’s the thing with prophecies. You can predict just about anything, and if you wait long enough, it’s almost certain to come true. And in the meantime, it creates a terrific lot of worries that you can hold over people and threaten them with on occasion.” They had reached the house.
“What about you?” she demanded of Caroline, when the group stopped at the bottom of the stairs.
“I believe in assessing each wolf on their own merits,” Caroline said bluntly. “It’s true, you have some unusual gifts. But what your intentions are, how you mean to use those gifts, remains to be seen.”
“And you?” Dee went on, turning to Andre. “You’re here to see if I should be put down, aren’t you?”
“Since Baron first told the Council about you, they’ve been understandably curious,” Andre said, taking no offence at the sudden interrogation. “What I’m here to do is assess the situation, measure your abilities and report back with my findings. I’m in no position to judge you, one way or the other. Your fate is for the Council to decide.” Well, that was nicely vague.
“I understand your concerns,” Baron interrupted. “And they will be taken seriously and addressed properly at a point in the future. But right now, we have other problems to deal with. Skip is currently working on the theory that Tank has been taken to the same lab you were kept in. And I realise your escape from there was rather traumatic, but I was hoping you might remember something that could help us find it. Either you or Faeydir must remember how you escaped, maybe a landmark you saw, or a street name? Anything that can help us pinpoint its location.”
“Oh gosh. I can try…” she began, and then another, much more alarming thought occurred to her. Mark would know where it was. But he couldn’t tell Baron himself without exposing his secret. But maybe if she could get a few minutes alone with him, she could ask him, and then maybe pretend to ‘remember’ when she spoke with Baron?
Where the hell was Mark? she wondered suddenly. He’d been with her at the gate, had walked back to the house along with Caroline and Andre, but now he’d mysteriously vanished.
“Come into the library,” Baron said, as Dee scrambled for an excuse to disappear for a few minutes. “I need to know everything you remember about the lab – the location, the layout, any security systems you might have noticed.”
“Okay,” Dee said, meekly following him up the steps. “I don’t think I remember much, but I’ll give it a go…”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Mark sat at the table in the library, feeling Caleb’s curious eyes on him as the pair of them waited for Baron.
The hard drive Mark had stolen from the server in the Noturatii lab sat on the table in front of him, along with a thick file detailing the lab’s location, its security systems, its layout; information he’d bought, stolen and hacked in the months leading up to his ill-planned solo attack on the lab.
He’d lain awake for hours last night, contemplating his course of action. He could have given the drive to Dee, asked her to give it to Baron, but the obvious question then was if she’d stol
en it herself, why had she waited so long to hand it in?
He could have simply told her the location of the lab, got her to lead Baron back there, claiming to remember the way, but that would do nothing for them as far as getting past the security system – which, by Mark’s reckoning, would have been significantly upgraded since his last visit.
He could, of course, do nothing, keep his mouth shut and pretend ignorance, but to do so would be to send his pack mates – not to mention Dee herself – into a trap that could well get them all killed.
Or he could pray for a miracle, hoping that Skip would somehow come up with the information they needed all by herself. She’d been working on hacking the Noturatii database all night, a steady diet of coffee and chocolate keeping her and Simon going, but Mark knew she’d been trying to hack that same database for the past three years with little to show for it. It was optimistic to the most ridiculous degree to think she’d suddenly find the answer now.
The door opened, and Baron, Caroline, Andre and Dee walked in, all looking surprised to see him there.
“Mark?” Baron glanced at the hard drive on the table, then at the file, then back at Mark. “Something I can help you with?”
Mark knew the exact moment that Dee figured out what he was doing, and the look on her face was going to haunt him for a long time. “I have something to show you,” he said. “About the Noturatii lab.” He detailed the information calmly, the story of his break-in, his reasons for going there in the first place – there was little point in leaving anything out since Baron would just prise the details out of him anyway – watching as their faces grew grim, then surprised, then finally shell-shocked as they realised the value of what he was handing over. “So if Skip can access these files,” he said finally, pushing the small device across the desk towards Baron, “then she should be able to find enough information to hack their database. And then we get the layout of the building, security systems, guard patrols, the works.”
Baron was silent for a long time, staring at the drive, an unreadable expression on his face. Then he picked it up, handed it to Caleb and said, “Get this upstairs to Skip.”
Caleb left in a hurry, leaving a room full of angry, astonished faces. Baron turned to Dee. “Am I to assume that you knew about this?”
“Parts of it,” Dee admitted. “I knew Mark had helped me escape. Not at first, mind you. I didn’t really remember anything at first, and it took me a while to get Faeydir to explain what had happened. And yeah, I probably should have told you,” she added, with a hint of insubordination, “but you’ll excuse me for feeling a sense of loyalty towards the man who saved my life.”
Andre raised an eyebrow at that, and Mark felt cold as he realised it was more than just him who would be in trouble here. With Andre here to assess her suitability as a wolf, he’d probably just cost Dee a good part of the good will that Andre had seemed to be feeling towards her last night.
Baron’s expression was grim. “What you’ve just confessed to are the actions of a traitor,” he said flatly. “And while we’re going to have to deal with that as the entirely serious matter that it is…” He glanced at Caroline, then at Andre. “Right now, we need to get Tank back. So I vote we shelve Mark’s piss-arsed stupidity for another day.”
“Agreed.” Caroline said immediately.
“I’m sure the Council would agree with you,” Andre said. “Depending on your time frame for an assault, I could have reinforcements sent in-”
“I appreciate the offer,” Baron told him, “but with all respect for Tank, he’s too much of a liability to let this go on for even a day. He knows too much about Il Trosa, and if they break him, we won’t have to worry about Fenrae-Ul ending our species. The Noturatii will do it for her.”
Baron stared at the information on the screen in front of him. He was loathe to admit it, but the hard drive Mark had stolen was going to be the key to their success. Since his break-in, the Noturatii had upgraded their security, of course, but with the information on the drive, Skip had been able to hack their server and discover a wealth of detail on their new systems and security measures. The battle would be fierce, and he acknowledged with a heavy heart that they were likely to lose good shifters in the process.
But this wasn’t just about Tank. Even if it had been, he’d still have risked his life, might have called for volunteers to storm the lab with him – knowing that almost the entire Den would have put their hand up in an instant.
But given the experiments the Noturatii were conducting in that hell hole, this wasn’t just about one man. It was about the survival of their entire species. If the Noturatii were allowed to continue their research and discover more about shifter physiology, ways to create new shifters, and new ways to kill them as a result, it could be the end for them all. So, for that reason, he was willing to risk his entire Den. Each and every life beneath his roof could die tonight, at his command; twenty wolves who would stop running in one bold sweep of the brush.
But if they managed to shut down this monstrosity of a lab, it would be worth it. And what’s more, he knew that everyone in the Den – damn, maybe even everyone in the whole of Il Trosa – would stand behind his decision one hundred per cent. It was a humbling position to be in.
Every single shifter was gathered in the library, waiting for a battle plan, some of them glaring at Mark, others ignoring him. Some of them paced. Some stood. Some had grown tired and now sat on the floor – they’d all been up late last night, and it looked like tonight wasn’t going to offer them much sleep either. But despite the risks of going in with some of his Den not at their peak, there was little to be gained from waiting. Aside from the obvious risks in leaving Tank in the Noturatii’s hands, he strongly suspected that no one would sleep tonight, regardless. There was no rest to be had until this battle was fought and won – or lost, as was the cold possibility.
He turned away from the screen and looked up to address the gathered shifters. “Good work, Skip. It’s going to be a tough battle, but we’ve got enough information to give us a fighting chance. So here’s what we’re going to do…”
Dee stood before the long bookcase in the library, apprehensive about what was about to be revealed. She’d long wondered where the Den kept its supply of weapons, Silas having taught her to use a number of different guns in the past few months, the supply of ammunition seemingly endless. But whenever she’d asked questions on the subject, the answer had been the same – a curt ‘it’s a secret’ that had put the subject firmly to rest.
Now though, she watched as Baron tapped a code into the keypad hidden behind the thick volumes on the top shelf, and then stood back in awe as the entire wall swung open.
On the other side there was a wide room, guns, knives and swords all hanging in line along the walls, rows of ammunition stacked neatly, and on the back wall, several dozen Kevlar vests.
“All right, everybody. Suit up,” Baron said, striding to the back of the room and handing out the vests. “Guns all round. Knives, if you know how to use them. Andre, choose whatever you like.”
“Thank you,” the assassin said, but shook his head. “I came well prepared. I have my own supply.”
“Raniesha, you’ve got those explosives ready?”
“Four dozen charges,” she shot back, strapping on her vest. “I’ll take half of them, and you can share the rest between you.”
“Two pistols,” Silas said to Dee, handing her the guns and a holster. “Are you prepared to pull that trigger?”
Dee fought to find her voice for a second, momentarily overwhelmed by the memories of pain and torture she’d endured in that place. “Absolutely,” she said, returning his stare unwaveringly.
“Glad to hear it.”
“George? You got that food ready to go?”
“Already in the vans,” the ageing man replied, strapping on a vest along with the rest of them. Too old and not particularly skilled in battle, George was one of the shifters assigned to driving the vans. But
it had been impressed upon them that just because they weren’t going into the lab itself, that didn’t mean they couldn’t get caught in the crossfire. On Baron’s instructions, George had prepared a huge pile of sandwiches, snacks, water bottles and raw steaks – it was a five hour drive each way, and going in hungry wasn’t going to help anyone.
But the biggest surprise of the weapons supply was still to come. Once everyone had their weapons and vests on, Baron cast a critical eye over the crowd, then announced, “Okay, folks, suit up.”
Dee’s first thought was that they already had, with their Kevlar vests and combat boots, everyone clad in black leather or dark clothing… but then half a dozen people shifted, and it was only then that Dee realised what else was hanging on the back wall. Below the rows of vests, there were more suits hanging up, and she’d assumed they were spares, or perhaps different styles for different battle situations. Now she realised they were… holy hell, they were Kevlar vests built specifically for wolves. Not only that, as she watched Baron strap one of them onto Caroline’s wolf, she saw they had rows of spikes along the flanks and down each leg, and thick metal plates over the spine. They were wolven suits of armour!
It was both an obvious necessity and a completely unexpected idea, but it made perfect sense. Wolves could be killed by bullets just as surely as humans could.
“Is Faeydir going to be okay wearing one of these?” Mark asked, appearing beside her with a suit in hand.
Rather more than just okay, Dee thought sardonically, as Faeydir eagerly shifted, tail wagging, barely able to stand still from the excitement as Mark did up the straps. A real battle, against a hated foe, and her wolf was chomping at the bit to get out there and start kicking arse. Once she was suited up, she shifted back, then grimaced at the sharp jolt she felt from the effort.