“Back up, boy,” she coaxed, gripping her chain. “There’s nothing for you here.”
A low rumble rose from his emaciated gut. He dug his front claw into the dirt beside her. The beast pulled his snout back with bared teeth. Warm slobber dripped onto her leg.
She sat up, pressed her back against the corral fence, and pushed to her feet. The werg watched curiously. She wrapped the chain around her hand for a better grip. The beast leaned in, his breath beating against her shirt.
“Easy, boy,” she said as she slipped the chain over his head.
The werg hesitated; he seemed to sense something amiss, but didn’t have the intelligence to understand what. She didn’t wait for him to figure out her game and slung the chain around his thick neck. Surprised, the werg reared back, pulling her toward him. She squeezed with all of her might. The werg slammed his front hand against her chest, knocking loose her grip and sending her to the dirt. He freed himself with a simple swipe at the chain.
The beast tilted his head back with a rage-filled roar. She had blown her only chance. But there was something still gnawing at her gut, something that she couldn’t explain.
And then the answer rushed into her consciousness like a bolt of lightning. She remembered what she had heard before the beast came to her, and that memory drained any hope she had left. For it wasn’t one cage that was opened, but two. And she had yet to meet this creature’s friend.
She dropped her arms in defeat with complete resignation. “I have nothing left,” she whispered. The werewolf licked his exposed teeth with a delighted snarl. Did he understand her?
The overhead light snuffed out again. She cringed and turned away, praying the end would come fast and painlessly. The werg’s front claws struck the dirt near her feet. Panting, he crept closer. This was the end.
He grunted.
But the creature’s teeth didn’t meet her throat. Instead, another creature roared from somewhere in the dark. The overhead light flickered on briefly at the same instant that a second werg collided with the first, knocking both of them to the dirt. The two wergs ripped at each other’s throats with high-pitched squeals and cries like two pit bulls in a life-or-death dog fight.
The light died again, and then hummed and pulsated into a dim glow, giving her a good look at the second werg. He was a bit smaller than the first, though no less ferocious. He sank his teeth into his opponent’s neck, sending an echoing wail throughout the corral and into the stables. Blood spurted from between his teeth. The injured werg went limp. The victorious werg lowered his prey to the ground before releasing his throat. With blood flowing from his neck, the creature rolled to his side, defeated.
The second werg backed toward Christine until he was between her and the fallen werg. The bigger one struggled to his feet, poised to attack again. The two creatures exchanged intimidating roars before the badly injured loser tucked his ears to his skull and lowered his head below his shoulders. The smaller werg rose to his full height again and puffed out his chest in an obvious display of dominance. The other creature backed into the darkness and scurried away.
With their battle over, the victorious werg stalked from side-to-side around the area where Christine sat, his eyes trained on the darkness of the corral. This creature didn’t harass her in place of the first werg. Instead, he lowered to the dirt within the cone of light and lay guard a few yards from Christine’s feet. He didn’t look back to her, but stayed focused on the darkness, remaining alert for whatever threat may arrive next.
Christine was confused. She assumed the two wergs were fighting to claim possession of her. The fact that she was human at the moment did little to hide what she truly was. For some unexplained reason, the smaller werg appeared to be protecting her from the others. But why?
“Thank you,” she whispered.
Her protector grunted. His fur had a silver tint unlike any of the wergs she had previously seen.
She crawled forward, reached out, and touched the back of his head. “If I get out of here,” she whispered. “You’ll be the first one that I free. I swear.”
He either ignored her or didn’t understand, because he gave no reaction.
She stroked his head until the sun rose. The early morning light revealed the cages lining the sides of the corral for what seemed like the length of a football field. Most of the caged werewolves had drifted to sleep after the fight, but a few continued sniffing the air.
Christina couldn’t understand. Why were these two wergs free to roam, while all of the others were chained or caged? “What are these bastards doing with me?” she wondered out loud.
The silver-tinted werg, who she was beginning to think of as her hero, sat up abruptly. She watched him, curious. She didn’t hear or see anyone coming that might have alarmed him. His mouth twitched and then crinkled, exposing his teeth. He ducked his head forward. His snout quivered. She covered her mouth to hide her amusement at the silly face he made and wondered what could be making him so uncomfortable.
And then he let loose a violent sneeze. He shook his head, as if trying to rid himself of the tickle in his nose. His face contorted before he sneezed again ... and again ... and again ... until he reached seven.
Christine tilted her head. Something familiar clicked in her mind. She reached out to touch him again, but he pulled away. She moved closer, but her chain snapped tight. Her eyes blurred behind growing tears. He stared at her with sad eyes. Yes, people might think she was crazy, but she really could see sadness there. It seemed like he wanted to tell her something of deadly importance.
“Billy?” she whispered, almost unable to get the name out. “Is that you?” She couldn’t believe her own words as they left her lips.
He looked away for a moment, but turned back. Had he understood her? He shimmied closer until he was within reach. She touched the side of his snout. He pressed against her hand.
“Billy?” she asked again.
He leaned in closer within a couple inches of her face. She leaned her head to the side and looked past him. He followed her with his own head. She leaned the other way and he followed her again. “You know I hate when you do that, Billy,” she said with a half-sob, half-chuckle. Billy backed away.
“I’m so sorry, Billy,” she whispered.
He lowered his head as if to show her something. She rubbed between his ears and he moved his head forward under her hand. She brushed across a rough lump on the back of his neck and he winced. She leaned in for a closer look, parting his fur with her fingers. Eight medical staples were embedded along the top of a scabbed-over knot.
“I know about the chips, Billy.”
He nudged her hand with his head.
“What do you want me to do? I can’t take it out here.”
He nudged her again and scooted closer.
“I can’t, Billy. I’m so sorry.”
His ears perked and he turned toward a set of gates at the far end of the corral. He growled. The gate creaked open. A collective clang filled the air as the other wergs awakened and cowered to the backs of their pens.
Two men wearing army fatigues entered the corral and locked the gate behind them. As they crossed the ground, Billy lowered his chest to the dirt, and pinned his ears against his skull.
When the men were within ten feet, the shorter of the two guards shouted, “Get back, you filthy mutt.” He closed the gap between himself and Billy before Billy could move away. Sparks snapped from the end of a cattle prod as he shoved it against Billy’s shoulder. With a horrible yelp, Billy stumbled in his haste to move from their path.
“Leave him alone,” Christine screamed, but they ignored her.
The other guard kicked Billy in his side and Christine cried out again.
“Shut up, bitch,” the taller guard shouted. “The boss wants to see you.” He motioned to his partner. “Get her, Trent.”
Trent, a younger man with dark features and a soft, almost prepubescent face, smiled and tossed a flimsy piece of folded fabric b
y her feet. “Put this on,” he said. “Please.”
She scowled at him.
He reached for her neck with a brass key. “When I unlock your collar, you’d better behave. If you try to change, we’ll have to hurt you. Understand?”
She didn’t answer.
“Do you understand?” the taller guard shouted, and kicked Billy again.
“Okay,” she answered. “I’ll do what you say, just don’t hurt him anymore.”
The fabric proved to be a hospital gown, complete with the drawstring around the waist and the same goofy patterns that no one ever seemed to notice while sitting in their hospital beds.
“I will say it one more time. Put this on,” Trent said with an almost warm smile. “Tie the opening in the front.” He paused, glanced at the serious-faced guard at his side, and then back to her. He whispered, “You can leave those boxers on.”
“What are you going to do to me?”
“Just relax,” he answered.
In a surprising show of decency, Trent turned away while she changed out of the over-sized T-shirt. The other guard didn’t. She shivered in the early morning air. “I’m ready,” she said after putting on the gown.
“Hands behind your back,” Trent said. Then he winked and said, “It’ll be warmer upstairs, won’t it, Jim?” Jim grunted while cinching a zip tie around her wrists.
“Not too tight?” Trent asked.
Though she would have preferred it to be looser, she shook her head.
She glanced at Billy as he quivered on his side. Jim the asshole shoved a black hood over her head. The two guards took her by her arms and led her away.
I’ll be back for you, Billy, she vowed. I promise.
28
PARTY PREPARATIONS
THE two guards escorted her from the corral, through a door, and into a long hallway. The tile was like ice beneath her bare feet. They led her up several flights of equally cold stairs and into another long hallway, this one carpeted, which felt wonderfully soft on her sore feet.
The guard’s sudden and loud pounding on a wooden door startled her. A muffled voice answered with orders to bring her in. Once inside the door, one of the guards grabbed the hood and ripped it free from her head, along with some of her hair.
The brightness of the room momentarily blinded her until she could blink away the blurriness. Sunlight beat through the glass of three large picture windows along the opposite wall and bounced across the glossy black finish of a magnificent grand piano to her left. She also saw a bar in one corner of the room with an open corner-cabinet stocked full of alcohol.
The taller guard, Jim, nudged her farther into the room. As she passed through the doorway, the warm air of a furnace register blew against her exposed legs.
An older man sat staring out the windows in a puffy leather chair that seemed to swallow him in its comfort. He glanced to her, and then back to the windows.
No one said a word until he spoke. “Ms. Alt,” he said. “Thank you for joining me.”
Christine wanted to shout, “I didn’t have much choice,” but thought better of smarting off, at least until she found out what he wanted.
Trent remained standing at her side.
The older man stood up from his chair. He was wearing a tuxedo with an emerald green handkerchief stuffed in the breast pocket. He moved toward her as he spoke. “I am Bernard Henderson.”
Mr. Henderson? She thought back to Aiden’s story, and more specifically, the name she would never forget. She built the courage to say what she was thinking. “You’re a monster. I’ve heard your name before.”
He snickered. “And where was that? From your new friend, Aiden?”
She didn’t answer.
“Let me tell you about Aiden. He was my best hunter. He killed more werewolves than I could keep track of. And he did it with a smile.”
“He didn’t know they were people,” she snapped.
“Oh, I bet he knew,” Bernard answered. “He either knew or he didn’t want to know.”
“Just tell me what I’m doing here”
“Well, Ms. Alt, it just so happens that I am in need of a date for a special occasion tonight, and you happen to be available.”
Christine glared at him. “You realize there are people for that. You obviously have plenty of money, so why don’t you buy a date? Maybe whoever you paid could at least pretend to like your company.”
Bernard smirked and turned back toward the window. “Why would I buy a date when I have you?”
“Have me? Are you crazy? You’ve kidnapped me. I’m not going anywhere with you short of the police station.”
Bernard whirled around and grabbed her face with one hand, squeezing her mouth into a pucker and digging her teeth into the inside of her cheeks. “You listen to me.”
Christine jerked her head away. He stared with cold, calculating eyes. She stared back, trying to show defiance.
“Maybe you don’t quite grasp who I am. I have plans for you. If you don’t go along with those plans, I will gut you where you stand.”
Jim stepped forward. “Sir?”
Without taking his eyes from Christine’s stare, Bernard answered, “What?”
“Just so you know, her friend is werg number seven-three-two-eight down in the coral.”
“Oh yeah? Which one is that again? I mean, what was his name before we got him?”
“Billy, I think.”
“Ah, yes. Billy. He was your friend on the fire department, wasn’t he?”
Christine’s heart sank. It must have shown on her face because Bernard grinned. “Hey, Jim. Go and kill Billy. We don’t need him.”
Christine gasped. Jim turned for the door. She believed to her core that Bernard meant what he said and that Jim couldn’t wait to obey.
“No,” she shouted. “Please don’t.”
Jim looked to Bernard for direction, and Bernard nodded.
Christine bowed her head and mumbled, “What do you want me to do?”
Bernard smiled again. “Now, that’s more like it.” He looked to Jim and Trent and said, “Take her to the bathroom so she can get cleaned up. She looks like hell.”
Jim grabbed one of her arms and Trent grabbed the other.
Before they took her to Bernard’s private bathroom, Bernard added, “There should be plenty of girly things in there, but if you need something else, just ask. My wife uses that bathroom to prepare for nights on the town, and I don’t figure you think you are any better than my wife. Do you?”
Christine didn’t answer.
“Do you?” he said again, his voice a little louder. Jim squeezed her arm until she winced and then he let up. She shook her head once.
The bathroom was nearly as big as her condo. The sweet smell of vanilla lingered in the air from a candle burning next to a Jacuzzi tub. Every towel was hung or folded with perfect creases. The marble floor was meticulously clean, appearing as though a maid had left only seconds before.
Jim drew a small pocket knife from a pouch along his waistband and sliced the restraints from her wrists. “What are you waiting for? Get in the shower.”
She climbed into the shower, pulled the frosted glass door closed, and tossed her hospital gown over the top. The warm spray of water was soothing enough on her sore muscles that she momentarily forgot where she was.
Jim shouted, “Hurry up,” reminding her.
There was a shelf that held every type of soap and conditioner she could ever need. She scrubbed her body until her skin was red and raw, trying to wash away the last several days. While she rinsed off, Jim sighed loud enough that she knew he was rapidly losing his patience.
She asked for a couple of towels, and one of the two guards tossed them over the shower door. She wrapped a towel around her body and another around her hair and stepped out.
Trent handed her a garment bag and said, “Wear this.”
She unzipped the front and found an emerald green, strapless dress that matched the green handkerchief in Be
rnard’s breast pocket. At the bottom of the garment bag was a pair of black, high-heeled shoes.
“A little privacy?” she asked.
Trent turned and faced the door. Jim continued staring. “I don’t think so,” he said.
Sitting on the vanity was a matching set of bra and panties. She was disgusted that Bernard had taken the time to pick them out like a boyfriend might. He even had the right sizes, which creeped her out even more. She dressed as quickly as she could, Jim’s prying eyes searing through her back.
She finished getting ready with a counter full of make-up and hair products, even though she resented every second of it.
Finally, she said, “I suppose I’m ready.”
Trent smiled. He and Jim led her back to where Bernard waited. Bernard looked her up and down and said, “You look stunning.”
She sneered in return.
He told the guards to leave.
As they left, he walked to the bar. “Thirsty?” he asked.
Actually, she was. “I’ll take some water,” she answered, unable to hide the venom in her voice.
He poured a shot of bourbon into one glass and filled another with water from a pitcher sitting in a pail of ice. He asked, “Have you ever heard of the Expeditioner’s Club?”
She shook her head.
“I’m not surprised. Most people haven’t.”
He went to her and handed her the glass.
As she reached for it, she looked into his eyes. She had never met someone who could exude such evil from their gaze, and she realized Aiden was right—he had been working for the devil.
“Well,” he said. “Spin around and let me see the whole dress.” She started to turn and he added, “Slowly.” When she had her back to him, he touched her bare shoulder. She cringed at the thought of such a monster touching her. He stopped her turn and said, “Wait a second. You forgot to remove the tag. Here, let me get it.” She closed her eyes, secretly pleading for him to move. But instead of moving, he leaned in and blew on the back of her neck. She flinched and jerked away. Bernard grunted and doubled over, and a pocket knife dropped to the carpet. He held his left hand with his right. “You stupid bitch. You made me cut myself.”
Tamed Page 16