Half-Breed

by Marcia Colette

  We arrived at the hotel—fully clothed, thank goodness. Through a side door, we sneaked Decker's limp body inside the suite he and Fisk shared. Assuming he survived the 107 degree temperature, as Club founder and unofficial Pack Alpha, Dane assumed the responsibility of ushering Decker through his change. Such the brave soul. I wished him all the luck in the world and told him not to call me unless he wanted a bullet in Decker's brain.

  We left Pulaski's body encased in plastic in the back of the 4X4. Riley and Scott volunteered to get rid of the evidence and make it look as though he checked out of the hotel without a trace.

  That was one of the drawbacks to joining the Club. When a person checked out of this world due to supernatural related causes the death went unnoticed.

  The rest of us helped keep Decker's thrashing body from jumping out of his ice bath. When his fever went down a few degrees, we pulled him out and wrapped him up in towels and his bathrobe. He looked like a mummy lying in bed as moisture beaded around his neck and forehead.

  We stayed in his room going over the details of tonight's hunt and where we went wrong. Dane kept us up for hours discussing our approach angles and how we needed to clean up our act for tomorrow night's hunt. There was one more beast out there, and he had to go down.

  Chapter 18

  Matt called around eight in the morning. He figured I'd be up and getting ready for work. After everything we had been through, I would have given anything for that to be true. He knew right away by the sound of my voice that I hadn't gotten any sleep. Three hours, tops. I went to bed after four-thirty and woke with a pounding headache, pinched nerves in my neck, and an aching back. It had nothing to do with overextension or not stretching properly before physical activities. I was part werewolf, so I didn't need to worry about those kinds of frivolities. This was the result of pure tension and stress from the previous night's events. I lied to Matt that some of my coworkers kept me out late playing pool at one of the popular locales. Trusting man that he was, he bought into every word and didn't keep me on the phone. After hanging up, I called Fisk's room.

  Dane's voice startled me. “What are you doing there? Where's Fisk?"

  "Good morning to you too, Angel.” His voice sounded cracked and tired, as if he hadn't gotten any sleep either. “I spent the night to keep an eye on Decker."

  "He's still alive?"

  "You sound surprised. Of course he's alive. His condition hasn't changed, though."

  "So what are you going to do? Bring him back to your place in Charleston?"

  He sighed. “What choice do I have? It looks like we're going to have to stay here at least another couple of days, until he's over the hump. Moving him could be dangerous right now."

  I shook my head. “Well, don't let me keep you on the phone. I only called to see if we had another body on our hands.” I hung up.

  Considering everything we had been through in the past year that sounded pretty callous on my part. Ask me if I care. Dane wanted to breathe new life into the Club, so he had better get used to there being more bodies on his hands. As for me, I chose to remain disconnected from the group. Why bother trying to rekindle something that I planned on leaving once this mission ended? I couldn't be around this much death and destruction anymore. I wanted no part of it.

  I didn't crawl out of bed until noon. I spent the rest of the day either washing or trashing my clothes at the hotel's coin-op laundry. Taking Dane's advice, I tossed the leggings because they had too much of Riley's scent and perspiration on them. I didn't want to think about any other imprints he might have left behind. As for the rest of my clothes, I threw everything in, including my underwear and socks, and put in double the water and detergent. Matt would have a fit about the strong laundry soap once his keen nose honed in on it. That was why I had to be careful with everything I took on this trip. I checked in with Dane before going to the store for a new pair of black leggings and a long-sleeve shirt for tonight.

  I needed that time alone. Though Dane would have preferred me taking someone along, the time by myself gave me plenty of time to think about everything that had happened.

  As much as I hated to admit it, perhaps it wouldn't be a bad idea to put Scott's psychology skills to good use in a group setting. Then again, maybe that was partly the reason why Dane had asked him to join the group in the first place. Whether they wanted to admit it or not, what had happened eight months ago left a heavy shadow over the group. Recent events hadn't helped. Sooner or later, Dane would have a bunch of renegade hunters on his hands. He needed to do something about it ... fast.

  So where did this leave me with the Club? I couldn't say. On one hand, I wanted to wash my hands of all the death that surrounded me. On the other hand, I felt like a deserter for leaving these guys at a time when they needed me the most. How could I turn my back on one family while trying desperately to gain acceptance with another? It could kill me if anything more happened to the Hunting Club. But I couldn't divide my loyalties between the Club and the Georgia Pack. Could I?

  "Lex,” Graham shouted down the corridor.

  Sighing, I rested my forehead against the door. Dammit, I couldn't even get to the safety of my room without that guy tracking me down first. I would have taken great pleasure in slamming the door in his face.

  "Graham, I'm not in the mood.” I readjusted the bags in my hands and fumbled with the key card.

  "We have to talk, child.” The way he marched down the hall, I knew he had something on his stout chest. Heck, that cane he carried barely touched the floor. “I need to say my peace. To make things better between us. I don't want to go through the rest of my short life with you hating me."

  I cut my eyes to the side. “Well, I guess that's something you'll have to get used to."

  Not saying another word, I pushed the door open and stormed inside. The heavy lock clicked into place behind me. Safe at last. A heavy sigh slumped my shoulders and my bags dropped to the floor.

  A click from behind whirled me around. Graham stood holding the door open and staring at me, sadness and determination warring in his eyes. He had something to say and wasn't about to let me get off that easy.

  But how did he get in when I was the only person who had the key?

  "Now Lex, you have to listen to me. I just want—"

  I shoved the old man out of the way and looked at the back of the door. The handle hung at a 45-degree angle and two of the screws that held the plate to the door were missing.

  Someone was in here. A quick whiff around the handle proved it.

  "Lex, what are you doing?” Graham sighed. “We have to talk about—"

  "Be quiet!” I ordered in a loud whisper. “Either someone's been in here or they're still here."

  A taste of sweat touched the air. Shit. That someone was still here all right.

  I grabbed Graham by the arm and hustled him toward the door.

  Confusion knitted his thick eyebrows. “What's going on? What are you—"

  He never got to finish that statement because I shoved him out the door. Gripping the handle, I yanked it 180 degrees and prayed the catch would lock in place and keep the old man out. Graham would only get in the way and I needed to keep the wolf in here.

  A heavy fist slammed on the other side of the door. “What's going on in there? Lex?"

  Just as I turned to face the room, a knife skewered my shoulder. I choked off a scream as my back slammed against the door. If that wasn't a clue that I needed help, then Graham had better hope I didn't live through this or I'd kill his deft behind.

  Growling, a tall and lanky teenager stood at the other end of the knife. Tangled red curls bounced around his savage face, adding to the wild glare in his green eyes. He wore a dirty T-shirt and a pair of baggy jeans cut from the kneecaps down.

  He pressed his face within inches of mine, breath smelling like yesterday's garbage. “You killed my Alpha, you bitch."

  Fighting through the biting pain in my shoulder, I replied, “Don't worry ... you'l
l join him in a few minutes."

  My knee caught him in the groin. The wolf's eyes went wide as his reflexes scrunched him a bit lower. Gripping his wrists, I whirled us around and rolled backwards, throwing him over my shoulders.

  I screamed.

  If I had known that maneuver would have him ripping the knife out of my shoulder, I never would have done it. Now I knew what getting branded felt like.

  He recovered first and was on top of me again. Grabbing my shirt, he lifted me off my feet and threw me towards the breakfast counter. The back of my head cracked against the overhung portion of the countertop and the rest of my body crumpled to the floor between the chairs. It didn't take a genius to know that I lacked the build of a full-blood. So, yeah, my ass was hurtin'. Pain sliced through my skull and a flurry of white stars filled my vision. Everything blurred before turning dark gray.

  Hands wrapped around my neck, snapping me back to reality. As my throat squeezed off, tears blistered my eyes. A blink, and cold tears trailed back into my scalp.

  Flipping through my repertoire of self-defense moves, one came to mind. I slammed the heel of my hand into the back of his elbow. Bones crunched as his arm bent so far inward that even a contortionist would cringe. Shrieking in pain, he fell backwards and clutched his arm to his side. At least mine wasn't the only red face in the room.

  My hands went up to my throat as I gasped and coughed for the fresh air that my singed lungs craved.

  The knife blade gleamed on the floor out of the corner of my eye. I scrambled to reach it, but the rogue beat me to it. I skittered backwards and climbed up the side of the breakfast counter, not once taking my eyes off him. The pain in my shoulder ignited once more, but I didn't have the time to think about it. My life was at stake at the moment.

  He let his broken arm dangle at his side, lifting his head and fixing me with a glare. He took a step forward, his shoulders hunched over for another attack as he swayed the knife from side to side.

  What a numbskull. If he had had any sense, he could have finished this long ago in one stroke by changing right after he'd broken into my room.

  The teen came in full force, slashing the knife sideways. I managed to jump out of his way until he came around the second time and nicked me on the side. He smiled and swung the knife at me again, putting all his momentum into his swinging motion. This time, I caught his wrist on the backside and pushed him through his swing. For the split second he was off balance, I continued pushing on him until he fell to the floor. He choked a scream and his lower back remained humped, sticking his butt in the air. The smell of fresh blood wafted from his body.

  I thought about running to the door and screaming for help, but my instincts fought against it. As much as I wanted someone to rescue me, I couldn't afford for any humans to intervene in werewolf matters. So suffice to say, I was on my own until the cavalry arrived.

  I ran into the bedroom and found my crossbow, with several arrows next to it, lying on the bed. Picking it up, I folded the bow into position and wrapped my fingers around the wooden arrow shaft.

  A presence pressed into the space behind me. Before I could get a chance to arm myself, I swung the crossbow around and caught the redhead on his side. I brought the arrow around less than a second later and rammed it into his neck. Throwing my entire body on top of his, I tackled him to the floor

  Not dead yet, the teen growled, his face turning an angry red. Though the crossbow kept him partially pinned to the floor, he wriggled his hand free and planted his fingers dead center into my shoulder wound. He scavenged around inside my knife wound forcing me to yell out in pain. My blood oozed over his hand and tears wept down my cheeks.

  Enough of this shit.

  I grabbed hold of the arrow in his neck and stabbed it all the way through to the other side, snagging into the carpet underneath him. Madness and pure loathing for this monster opened up my primordial senses. There was no human reasoning or thought patterns left. This became a matter of survival. And the only one I cared about right now was mine.

  Letting my last ounce of humanity dissipate, I clamped my teeth onto his fleshy wrist that dig into my shoulder ... and tore out a chunk of his skin. The warm, metallic taste watered my taste buds, so I spat the flap onto the floor next to his head. Yanking the arrow from his neck, I stabbed it through again, aiming straight for his Adam's apple and pushing through to the other side.

  The redhead coughed and choked on the blood frothing from the side of his mouth. A single gust of air escaped his lungs. His eyes fixated on the ceiling and his face slackened.

  This was the moment to beat my chest and let out a roar that burrowed to the depth of my lungs. But unfortunately, my stomach reminded me of how human I was.

  I scurried backwards off his body and headed for the bathroom. My head barely got over the toilet seat before bile rose up in my throat and gushed out of my mouth. What the hell was I thinking? But that was essentially the problem. I hadn't been. Pure instinct, adrenaline, and hatred combined into one and turned me into rogue human hybrid.

  "Oh, man.” This loud whisper came from the other room.

  I snorted. Exhausted beyond thought, I muttered, “Some cavalry."

  Throbbing between my temples kept me from saying anymore. For that matter, I stopped caring about the world outside the bathroom.

  Footsteps scraped across the bedroom carpet and stopped in the bathroom doorway. My eyes followed the worn sneakers, tight jeans, and white tee up to Riley's face.

  "What the hell?” He darted inside and leaned down to touch me.

  I jerked away from him, smacking my already sore head against the wall. That hurt like a son of a bitch. Dane rushed into the bathroom behind him. His mouth opened but no words came out. Ignoring my attempts to squirm away, Riley roped his arms around my waist, kicked the top of the toilet down, and sat me on top. Dane wet a washcloth, got down on his knees, and began cleaning my face.

  "Riley,” he said, scanning my injuries. “Wet another washcloth and hand me those towels."

  Dane slid my jacket off my shoulders. Funny ... I hadn't noticed I still had it on until he mentioned my shoulder wound. When it slumped to the floor, he lifted my shirt over my head

  Blood soaked the right side of my body, turning my green bra cup into a dark shade of plum, the trail stopping at the waistband on my pants. A small gash just above my right hip didn't seem like much compared to the rest. I had the feeling I'd hurt for a long time.

  The phone rang. I jumped. That had to be Matt. Why not? The way my luck went, I just knew it couldn't be anyone else.

  Riley jogged into the other room and answered it. Shit. Matt might think I had shared my room with another man. Panicked pounded my heart as I stood up. Dane grabbed my arm.

  "Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he said. “You need to sit down."

  "Matt,” I whispered. “It's Matt. He'll think...” Something.

  Everything went black.

  Chapter 19

  My eyes opened. A textured ceiling came into view, but something about the scent of the room said that it wasn't mine. When I went to sit up, lighting bolts stabbed my head from every angle. A hand touched my stomach. My body tensed.

  "Relax,” Scott cooed. He lay so close to me that I hardly had any room to move. Thank goodness he was on top of the comforter. “Dane wanted someone with you when you woke up. He's in the other room checking on Decker.” His hand went up to my forehead, caressing a finger across it. “How ya feeling?"

  "Like crap,” I replied.

  My throat felt a little sore, but considering the thunderous agony in my shoulder, it didn't matter. I moved my right arm. Pain coiled its way through the muscles, enough to grit my teeth and seal my eyes tight. Dane must have fashioned a sling out of some shredded sheets and tied it around my neck.

  Cold air settled on my other arm. That sling wasn't the only thing he had done. It looked like he used the rest of the sheets to fashion a tube top for me, fastening it with safety pins. Heaven only knew h
ow many of the guys saw more of my flesh than I cared to show.

  A thick bandage underneath the sling and a smaller one on the gash above my hip adhered to my skin, tugging around the edges. Matt was going to love seeing his wife all stitched up, battered, bruised, and smelling like blood. You think I had some explaining to do before—wait until he saw this. Sad to say, going back home didn't seem so appealing anymore.

  * * * *

  Dane was good with the first aid stuff, but not for the reasons one would think. He hadn't attended medical school, nursing school, or even a CPR class. His reasons for learning how to fix wounds had more to do with inflicting them. He learned about anatomy and physiology in the hopes of becoming a more effective killer, which made sense ... to werewolves.

  In the dawn of his lycanthrope life, he didn't have anyone to usher him through his lifelong changes, so he pushed himself to be the best killer around. Somehow he found the strength to keep himself grounded by hunting animals and experimenting on them between multiple glasses of sherry and scotch. Like Dr. Frankenstein; cats, dogs, raccoons, anything he could find, he used in his quest for knowledge. As time went on, he moved up to humans. The homeless became his guinea pigs. He invited them home, got them drunk, and waited until they passed out before experimenting on them. Dane broke bones and practiced resetting them. He tore skin and muscle to note the differences between internal and external suturing. I had a feeling there was more going on, but that was as far as he allowed anyone into his demented mind. After finding out he kept people alive for days before killing them, I had my fill of his thinking processes.

  On one of my first outings, I sliced my knee while climbing up to my perch. When Dane came up after me to administer first aid, I threw rocks at him until he wrestled me to the ground. He threatened to reopen his illegal practice and start with me as his first patient if I didn't settle down. He had my full attention at that point.