Wicked Creatures

by Jessica Meigs

  “Stay here,” she told him. Though he made no sign of acknowledgment, he didn’t seem inclined to approach the windows, so Riley rolled up onto her feet and crept to the windows, making sure to position herself so she wouldn’t cast a shadow on the thin curtains hanging over them.

  Her first glance out the window didn’t reveal anything. The street was its same normal, calm status that it always was—at least, as far as she knew. But then an SUV, black and shiny and so obviously new and expensive that it stood out like a sore thumb, slowly cruised along the street before stopping right in front of Marie’s shop. She pulled back from the window to ensure she wouldn’t be seen and watched as a big, hulking man slid out of the front passenger seat and pointed right at the front door of Marie’s shop.

  “Shit,” Riley breathed. She turned to hurry to the apartment door but stopped short when she discovered Scott standing right behind her, still in wolf form. “Geez, don’t sneak up on me like that,” she snapped at him. Then she slipped past him and moved to the door, calling out behind her, “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

  She had to get downstairs and find her brother. She had to warn Ashton and Zachariah that they’d been found before it was too late.

  It had been a couple of hours since they’d left Scott upstairs to go through whatever process he was about to undergo, and Ashton had to admit he hadn’t fully wrapped his head around Scott’s new Alpha werewolf status. He and Zachariah had left Riley sitting on the floor outside the apartment and had retreated to the shop downstairs for privacy so they could talk in relative peace. That was how he found himself sitting on the floor behind the checkout counter, his bad leg stretched out in front of him, his ankles crossed.

  Zachariah sat beside him, his head resting against the cash counter and his knees loosely pulled up to his chest. His eyes were closed, and he looked exhausted; if Ashton hadn’t known better, he’d have thought Zachariah was asleep. But there was a slight hitch in his breathing that suggested total awareness of his surroundings.

  “Are you sure?” Ashton asked, breaking the silence between them and picking up on a conversation they’d left off on almost an hour before. They knew each other so well that he didn’t have to clarify the question.

  “Yeah,” Zachariah replied. “Positive.”

  “How can you tell?” he prompted.

  “I could sense it,” Zachariah said. “Which is weird as hell on its own. I hate that I can do this shit.”

  Ashton grasped his knee and squeezed it gently then slid his hand a little higher up on his thigh. “It’s going to be okay, Zach,” he tried to assure him. “I promise.”

  “You can’t promise that,” Zachariah replied. “Because unfortunately, we can’t see the future. If we could, we’d be a hell of a lot better off than we are now.” He opened his eyes then, giving a quick shake of his head that was either him trying to jostle stray strands of his dark hair off his face or rejecting a thought out of hand. He examined his palms, studying them like he expected his hands to do something on their own. “I need to know what I’m capable of, what I can do. So does Riley. We can’t risk finding ourselves in the middle of a fight and needing to use a trump card we have no idea how to play.”

  Ashton slid his hand against Zachariah’s and grasped it tightly. Zachariah laced their fingers together and gave him a small smile, one that was just wide enough to show the tips of his fangs. “We’ll figure it out,” he said with more confidence than he felt. “That I can promise.”

  “If you say so.” Zachariah sounded like he didn’t quite believe him. Nevertheless, he clung to Ashton’s hand, like he was afraid to let it go. He dropped his head back against the counter and tilted it, staring up at the ceiling. “I wish we were alone right now.”

  “We are alone,” Ashton pointed out.

  “No, I mean alone alone,” Zachariah said. “There are other people in this building, all within reasonable earshot. We’re nowhere near alone.”

  Well, Zachariah wasn’t wrong about that. Riley and Scott were upstairs, and Marie, Tate, and Jax had retreated to the office somewhere in the back of the store. Despite the fact they were alone, there was no privacy, none that they could be afforded where they could talk about anything particularly deep and probing. He hated the lack of privacy more than anything else.

  “Are you going to be okay?” Zachariah asked suddenly.

  He raised an eyebrow. “What makes you think I’m not?”

  Zachariah touched his right collarbone through his shirt, and Ashton thought of the scars he had there. He had a lot of scars on his body, but the ones there were of particular significance. There were four of them, obtained the last time he and Zachariah had faced off against an Alpha werewolf. It had taken Ashton captive during the fight between the three of them, jammed its claws into his skin and up under his collarbone, and threatened to rip the bone out completely until Zachariah had put a silver bullet right in the Alpha’s forehead. He’d had nightmares for a while after that—nightmares that Zachariah hadn’t been there for, because he’d taken off to Texas for the weeks that followed, drowning in self-pity, alcohol, and drugs. Most of them involved being savaged by the werewolf, torn to pieces and consumed. Other had revolved around being turned into a werewolf—not an Alpha, but one of the ones that were more savage, less in control. Werewolves, especially Alphas, were a nightmare to deal with.

  “I’ll be okay,” Ashton assured him. “Hey, we beat the last one, didn’t we? And we didn’t have an Alpha werewolf on our side that time, like you said.”

  Zachariah looked at the ceiling again. “We really need to figure out what me, Scott, and Riley can and can’t do.”

  “We might not be able to count on Scott doing much of anything,” he pointed out. “He’s still so new to being an Alpha, and we don’t know what Alphas can do. It might not be safe to take him into a fight.” He thought of the woman in red, Ahm, and suppressed a shudder. “Besides, if Ahm is there, and if she’s genuinely the mother of all the dark shit in the world—including werewolves—there’s no guarantee she won’t be able to control Scott somehow.” There’s no guarantee she won’t control me, he couldn’t help thinking. He hadn’t liked his reaction to Ahm’s presence in Zachariah’s D.C. apartment. He couldn’t get past how he’d been drawn to the woman, against his will, and he couldn’t figure out why.

  “Good point,” Zachariah agreed. “Maybe we should leave him here. But I doubt he’ll stay, not if Riley is going to go with us. And there’s no way she’s staying behind.”

  “So our choices are force both of them to stay behind or take both of them with us.” Ashton disengaged his hand from Zachariah’s and shoved it through his hair with a sigh. “It’s like trying to choose the lesser of two evils.”

  “No clear path,” Zachariah agreed. “And the two paths that are there are in bad shape.”

  He chuckled. “You’re stretching that metaphor a bit thin.”

  “Just call me Robert Frost.”

  He smiled and hooked his arm around Zachariah’s shoulders. “Okay, Robert,” he joked. “So what do you think we should do?”

  Zachariah leaned into him for a moment, looping an arm around his waist to rest his hand against his left hip, where he lightly massaged a spot of his skin just beneath the waistband of his pants, where his one and only tattoo resided. It was in plain black, a simple circle identical to the one Zachariah had on his own hip, and as the other man traced his fingertips over it, Ashton smiled. He wanted to make him stop touching him but resisted, partly because he enjoyed it so damn much but mostly because he didn’t want to break Zachariah’s thought processes. Finally, Zachariah sighed. “You won’t like it.”

  “I figured you were going to say that,” Ashton murmured.

  “I think you should stay here,” Zachariah said quietly. “You and Scott.”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “Nope, not kidding. I’m thinking practically.”

  Ashton chuckled again. “You and your
practicality,” he murmured, pressing his lips against Zachariah’s temple. He didn’t even feel offended that Zachariah felt he should stay behind. If anything, his request had been expected; there was no way he’d be any good out in the field against a werewolf or someone like Ahm. He sighed and shoved his hand through his hair again, grimacing at its dirtiness, and said gently, “Zach, you can’t sideline me the entire time we’re dealing with this problem. I know you’re trying to protect me, and believe me, I understand and love you for it, but you’re going to need my help eventually.”

  Zachariah looked uncertain. “What are you proposing?”

  “I’m proposing—”

  A scraping sound outside the building met Ashton’s ears, and he broke off, sitting up straight. His free hand fell to his thigh, and he disengaged his arm from around Zachariah’s shoulders, debating whether he should start working on getting off the floor. “Did you hear that?” he asked, his voice much lower this time, almost a soft, steady drone.

  Zachariah, too, had perked up. He slid smoothly to his knees, kneeling behind the counter with his head just high enough to see over the edge, staring at the shop’s door. His hand inched toward the pistol holstered on his belt, his green eyes rapidly scanning the store’s entrance.

  “I don’t see anything,” he reported. “But yeah, I heard it.”

  A floorboard creaked somewhere behind them, and both Ashton and Zachariah drew pistols and had them up and aimed into the darkness of the store in an instant. Seconds later, Riley emerged from the darkness, creeping toward them so silently that Ashton momentarily wondered if she was floating. She made a beeline for him, touched Zachariah’s shoulder in passing, and took a knee beside them.

  “There’s someone outside,” she whispered, her voice pitched so it wouldn’t carry beyond the three of them. “A black SUV, by the looks of it. A big guy got out and started prowling around the front of the store.”

  “Did you recognize him from anywhere?” Ashton asked.

  She shook her head. “I don’t think so. If I have seen him before, he didn’t exactly stick in my head as someone memorable.” She glanced at Zachariah then looked back at him before adding, “Scott’s gone full wolf.”

  “And you confirmed this how?”

  “I…went into the room to check on him.” She said it nonchalantly, like it wasn’t that big of a deal. Ashton could have smacked her.

  “And he didn’t…?”

  “He didn’t attack me, if that’s what you were about to ask,” she retorted.

  “There’s definitely something out there,” Zachariah said, sliding back down beneath the edge of the counter. There was a concerned crease in his forehead, and he looked like he hadn’t been tracking their conversation in the slightest. “It sounds like some sort of animal.”

  “Werewolf, maybe?” Riley suggested. It wasn’t an unreasonable thought; it wouldn’t have been beyond the realm of possibility that a werewolf could have tracked them down. Especially if it was an Alpha.

  “I could go check things out, if you want,” Zachariah offered.

  Ashton shook his head. “No, not a good idea.”

  “Why not?”

  “Like you were saying earlier, we don’t know what you are and aren’t capable of yet. We can’t risk you getting hurt because you overestimated yourself and what you’re capable of.”

  “I understand that, but our resources are limited right now—”

  “Where’s Jax?” Ashton interrupted, not wanting to hear his protestations.

  “In the back office with Tate and Marie, I think,” Zachariah answered.

  “Go get him,” he ordered, and Zachariah scrambled to obey. “Riley, keep an eye on the door.” Once she was in position in the spot Zachariah had vacated, he turned his own eye to the stairs leading to the second level. He debated going to check on Scott, but he had a feeling that would go over like a lead balloon: not at all. He couldn’t count on Scott having the same reaction toward him that he’d had toward Riley.

  Zachariah returned moments later, Jax close behind him. “Tate and Marie are still in the office,” he said before Ashton could ask. “Tate said he’ll give us a hand if and when we need it, but for now, he’s going to make sure Marie stays safe.”

  “I’m sure she’s thrilled to hear that,” Riley muttered.

  “Where’s Scott?” Jax asked.

  “Upstairs, playing wolf,” Ashton said. “Riley, how we looking?”

  “Someone’s at the front door,” she reported.

  “More than one someone,” Zachariah added from the spot he’d taken up beside her. “And one of them is that woman, I think. Maybe we need to take up defensive positions upstairs.”

  “But Scott’s up there,” Riley pointed out.

  “I think I can deal with Scott,” Jax said, but he didn’t sound very confident about it.

  “Not a good idea,” she refuted. “If he’s anything like most animals, he won’t tolerate you being anywhere near him. You’ll probably end up tearing into each other before the night’s over.”

  “You seem awfully calm for someone who just found out her boyfriend can now turn into a wolf,” Jax quipped.

  “Children, cut it out,” Ashton admonished. “Jax, go warn Tate and Marie that we’re going upstairs. Tell them to barricade themselves inside the office and don’t come out for anything. Then stay down here and keep an eye on the front door. Let me know when they get through. You still have my number?”

  “Got it,” Jax confirmed.

  “Good.” Ashton hauled himself awkwardly to his feet, doing his best to keep low behind the counter and out of sight. He grabbed Zachariah’s arm and nudged Riley with his elbow at the same time. “You two, come on. Upstairs, now.”

  The three of them had only just reached the hallway at the top of the stairs when the sound of breaking glass and the slamming of the front door being kicked open reached their ears. A growl started up, low and threatening, and several shots rang out, loud and explosive and echoing through the store, followed by the high-pitched yelping of an animal in pain.

  Fifteen

  Riley flinched at the sound of the animal-yell of pain downstairs. Her shoulders tensed, and she drew both pistols from the holsters on her hips and aimed them down the stairwell. She could feel Zachariah beside her, at her right shoulder, the tension radiating off of him.

  The click-click of high heels against the old, creaky hardwood floors downstairs followed a moment of silence. The pace was slow but steady, the walk of a woman already assured that she’d won. Riley’s stomach lurched as a shadow moved against the floor at the foot of the stairs, and she swallowed hard, adjusting her aim so that both pistols would be aimed right at the woman when she made her appearance.

  But it wasn’t the woman in red that showed up at the bottom of the stairs; it was a big hulking travesty of a man, the one built like a linebacker and ten times as dangerous. In one hand, he gripped a medium-sized wolf by the throat, his hand buried in its sandy-colored fur. The wolf dangled limply, and Riley couldn’t decide if it was dead or merely unconscious. It didn’t really matter, though; anybody who would hurt an animal, even one that could turn into a human and back, was a dead man in her eyes.

  She took aim and squeezed the triggers on both pistols.

  Apparently, she must have forgotten to load the pistols with silver ammunition, because while the man stumbled back a few steps from the impact of the bullets, he shook it off. He swung the unconscious wolf against the wall then dropped it like a useless sack of potatoes and advanced up the stairs.

  “Tell me one of you guys has silver bullets,” she said, her voice shaking slightly as adrenaline flooded her veins. “Because apparently, I forgot to bring some to this party.”

  Before either of them could answer, three things happened, so close together that Riley wasn’t sure which one had come first: the big man reached the halfway point up the stairs in what seemed like three strides; the apartment door was torn off its hinges as a lar
ge, dark-furred wolf slammed through it and went on the attack; and a familiar, uncomfortable tingle radiated up Riley’s spine.

  “Zach,” she said, and her brother must have seen something in her face, because he didn’t correct her usage of his nickname. He just grabbed her upper arm and pulled her away from the fight, shoving her behind him, between him and Ashton. The sensation didn’t get any better, though; if anything, it continued getting worse, especially as the click-click of the high heels below started up again, sounding like gunshots against the hardwood floor.

  Zachariah had taken up a defensive position in front of her, his shoulders and back hunched, his fingers spread and curved, his fingernails looking longer and sharper, almost like claws. Riley couldn’t see his face, but she imagined his lips were curled in a snarl.

  The big man that Scott had attacked tumbled down the stairs and out of sight, dragging the wolf with him. An animal let out a yelp of pain seconds later, and Riley’s heart lurched. “Scott!” she cried out, moving forward as if to follow him, but she stopped short when Ahm showed up at the foot of the stairs. Fury surged in her, and she stepped up alongside Zachariah, her knees wobbling as she struggled to maintain some form of control over the power rippling from her spine and down her arms. She glanced down, quickly, and was surprised to see that the red marks on her hands and wrists had begun to crawl up her forearms, twining in intricate patterns over her skin.

  Ahm studied her with an intrigued expression, like she was looking at a specimen in a jar.

  “You can’t possibly begin to think that’s going to work on me.”

  Riley snarled, a sound coming from her throat that was so reminiscent of the one Scott had made that it was almost frightening. “I guess we’ll find out, huh, bitch?” She stepped to the very edge of the top step, putting Zachariah and Ashton behind her, and spread her arms wide.

  “Riley, no!” Ashton shouted. But it was too late. Too much power had built up inside her, and she couldn’t hold it back even if she wanted to. It spilled out, blasting down the stairs and in a perfect circle out from her in an explosion of bright white light. It was so bright it blotted out all sight of anything around her, and when it faded away, it left spots dancing in her eyes and her knees struggling to support her. They didn’t last long before giving way, and she toppled backward into Ashton’s waiting arms.