by Bec McMaster
“Ah, ah, ah,” he whispered. “Make a move, and I’ll kill the boy first. Make you watch. Better you just put it down, honey.”
She lowered the barrel of the shotgun and rested it on his foot, the threat imminent. “You that fast on one leg?”
“Fast enough.” His fingers dug into her, the claws almost, but not quite, breaking the skin.
She met Jimmy’s eyes. She couldn’t do anything with him there. “Go. Please.”
“And tell them I’m looking for McClain,” the stranger lifted his voice. “If he wants the woman, he’ll have to find me this time. I’ll keep her alive for a week. If he doesn’t come for me by then, then I’ll kill her and take someone else.”
“And who are you?” Jimmy dared to ask. A tear slid down his cheek, but hope had risen in his eyes. He had a week, and he knew it.
Riley knew she wouldn’t be alive by then. She’d make sure of it. There were worse alternatives.
“Wade. Lucius Wade. You tell him that. Tell him I’ll be headin’ east.”
Jimmy nodded, taking one last look at her. “Won’t let you down, Riley. We’ll come for you.” His hands were shaking so badly he couldn’t hold the pistol anymore. It clattered to the rocks as he turned, running jerkily for the door of the jeep. He slammed it shut, the noise echoing through the gulch.
Then he was gone, the wheels screaming as they fought for purchase on the sandy surface. All she could see were his taillights, fading into the distance.
“Now,” Wade murmured. “Let’s you and me talk a little more about McClain.”
“I’ve got a better idea.” Riley tilted her face to meet his gaze. The predatory glint rolled through his pale eyes, but she called his bluff, hoping it was one. “You’re not going to claw me up. You need me alive – and unharmed – to bait your trap. So, how ‘bout I blow your foot off?”
“Then what?”
In the distance, the taillights began to fade. All alone. With a man who should’ve been a beast by that point. Her heart was in her throat, but Riley pressed on. “What do you mean?”
“Can’t you hear it?”
Silence. The wind whispering over the desert. And, beneath that, almost inaudible to her ears, the eerie sound of something howling in the distance.
She stopped breathing. Wargs. In beast form. If she got away from him, she’d be torn to pieces. If she was lucky.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” he mused. “Like a frigging desert symphony. Full of death, and longing... And hunger... Hear that?” He tilted his head as another throaty howl echoed out through the night, slightly closer. “There’s another one.”
He didn’t need to threaten her. Or point out that she wouldn’t get far. The night was a dark place, and a little voice whispered in her mind, Better the devil you know....
At least Wade was still in human form. Claws or not, that was better than being mauled to death – or raped – by one of the monstrously deformed weres.
“What do you plan to do with me?” she finally asked, shifting the shotgun off his foot.
“Good girl.” His fingers closed over hers. “Now, give it to me.”
She didn’t want to; that was her last hope, right there. His fingers tightened, just a fraction, and Riley let the shotgun slip through her hand, sucking in a deep breath.
Wade snapped the barrel open and examined the shot. “You know lead doesn’t have much effect on a warg?”
“Silver’s harder to melt,” she replied. “And I wouldn't look inside the casing if I were you. You don’t want the chemical contents inside mixing together while it’s in your hand.” A direct look into his eyes. “Or within fifteen feet of me.”
“What happens then?” Something that might have been curiosity shifted in his gaze.
“Boom.”
“Hmm.” He snapped the barrel shut and let her go. “You make it yourself?”
The sudden chill of the night almost made her want to step closer, huddle against his warmth. “What does it matter?”
He smiled. His teeth were very white in the night. “You’re an interesting woman.” Leaning closer, he laughed in her ear. “I might just keep you around for a while.”
She smiled back. “You’ll have to sleep sometime.”
Wade’s laughter echoed, the sound of it soft and intimate in the night. “We’ll see. Now, turn around and put your hands behind you.”
“Or?”
The laughter died. He gave her a dangerous look and hefted the shotgun like a club, the butt of the stock raised above his head. “Or I knock you out, and throw you over my shoulder. I'd have to carry you, but you won’t be able to see where I’m taking you then, huh?”
She obeyed, grinding her teeth together. The thought of being helpless was far from appealing, but she didn’t have much choice.
And she knew this land like the back of her hand. If she could escape – during the day – then she might have a chance of making it home. As if he knew what was going through her mind, he chuckled softly.
The feel of his hand on her midriff made her flinch, but he was only undoing her belt. “Relax. I prefer a little more subtlety to my seduction, and the night’s about to get dangerously overcrowded. I’m not fussy, but I’m not that interested in sharing either.”
She looked up. No movement on the plain, but that faint, echoing song still lingered in the air. “You want to hurry a bit, then?”
He jerked the belt through the loops of her jeans, making her stagger. “Now you want to come with me? Must be my charm.”
She didn’t reply, and he wrapped the belt around her wrists. Once. Twice. Thrice. Then jerked it tight, setting the buckle in place. There wasn’t even a finger’s width of wriggle room.
“Which way?” she asked.
“East.”
“But there’s nothing out there.”
Wade gave her a lazy-lidded smile. “You’ll see.”
* * *
Faint light turned the sky ahead of her rosy. Dawn. A long time coming. Riley’s feet were aching, and her hands throbbed from lack of circulation. They’d left the warg-song behind hours ago, but she still glanced over her shoulder occasionally, checking the horizon. You didn’t always hear them coming.
Despite the hike, Wade seemed none the worse for wear. He hadn’t bothered with conversation, and she wasn’t interested in starting one. He’d tugged a duffel out from behind a rock an hour into the trek, dragging a faded black muscle shirt on and a pair of heavy shit-kickers. From the rattle of the bag, he was packing some serious heat too.
“Why just the jeans?” she’d asked.
“The better to tempt you with.”
They were the only words they’d exchanged.
Exhaustion was starting to settle in when she staggered up a dusty rise. As the sky cleared, she got her first sight of what lay ahead, and stopped in her tracks.
“No way.”
Icy sweat sprang up against her spine. Ahead, a barbed-wire fence stretched for miles. Signs clung to the wire with faded black hazard symbols barely visible against the yellow. She didn’t come out this way often. Nobody did. But she knew where she was.
“Black River Testing Facility,” Wade said cheerfully, shoving her in the back with the shotgun.
She staggered forward, then dug her heels in.
“Home, sweet home,” he added. “Don’t be shy. I scrubbed the bloodstains off the floor.”
“It’s not the bloodstains I’m worried about,” she replied. “I changed my mind. I’ll sit out here and wait for the wargs.”
He laughed. “It’s sterile. They came through and destroyed any remaining signs of the pathogen. You’re not at risk. It’s been over seventy years since Black River was used to weapons-test their gene-enhanced critters, and sixty-something since the meteor hit.”
“Why didn’t they bomb the place?” She glared up at the stark adobe buildings behind the fence.
“What would be the point? Everybody was dead.” He shrugged. “And the government
had other matters on their mind. Namely the Eastern Confederacy, and the enforcer bands.”
He gave her a gentler nudge. Riley staggered forward, her left knee giving out beneath her. With a sharp cry, she plunged forward, unable to balance herself.
Strong hands caught her by the belt. She almost screamed as fiery pain flashed through her hands.
“I forget you’re only human,” he commented, tearing the belt buckle loose.
“No,” she murmured, feeling blood begin to circulate through her fingers like liquid nitrogen through her veins. Too late. The throbbing sensation made her head spin. She could barely even move her arms, even though they were free now.
“You should have told me you were hurtin’.” He swung her over his shoulder with ridiculous ease.
No! She kicked at him. “I’m not going into that building! Leave me out here! I’d rather die.”
“So melodramatic.” He kept walking, ignoring her struggles. “That’s always an option, you realize, darlin’. I really only need McClain to think I’ve got you. A little hair and the scent off your clothes ought to do it, if I bait the trap right.” His manner was easy, as if he were speaking about what she’d like for dinner, and not about cutting her throat.
A shiver ran through her. Any doubts about just how dangerous he was evaporated like a drop of water in the desert sun.
Glancing back over her shoulder, she could see the fence looming closer. “Why the hard-on for McClain?” Keep him talking. Then maybe he won’t kill me.
“He’s still breathing,” he replied, as if that explained it all.
Ripping a piece of the fence aside, he slipped in through the gap. The scrape in the dirt showed this wasn’t a recent development.
Just how long had he been out here, hiding in this godforsaken place? Watching for a chance to get at someone, and hoping they came from McClain’s settlement.
The buildings loomed in the night, soaking up the soft, pre-dawn light. The stark white adobe walls looked ghostly, and the silence was unerring. Some trick of the wind kept a sheet of loose iron banging in the distance.
Creepy. She tensed against Wade, momentarily grateful for his company. And that just said it all, really.
Black River was the site of every Wastelander’s nightmares. Everyone knew the stories: a hidden government facility running research into wargs, and forced evolution, whatever the hell that meant. Weapons testing, though the weapons had once been human. Rykker, the only settler in Haven who remained from before the Darkening, claimed that nobody even knew what shadow-cats were before the meteor struck, and something escaped from Black River. Now, the Great Divide was crawling with them.
Why would you even create something like that? Sometimes she thought it would be easier to live in pre-Darkening times, where you could buy your foods in something called a supermarket, or fill your car at a gas station, according to Rykker. Then she'd think about all the bad things that still plagued the world, like the Dead Zones surrounding ancient nuclear plants that had been destroyed by wildfires from the crash, or the revenant plague.
Maybe a simpler life was a better one?
Wade swung her to her feet in front of one of the buildings. Riley staggered back against the wall, too exhausted to even try running. He gave her a terse look, realized she was too tired to care, and knelt down. Shuffling the dirt out of the way, he yanked on a smooth iron ring.
Opening the trapdoor revealed a gaping black maw.
“No.” She scrambled away.
“Ladies first.” He grabbed her and hauled her forward. “Mind the drop.”
Levering her over the hole, Wade lowered her into it. Riley’s feet curled under her as she tucked into a fetal position. She couldn’t help herself; she was partly hyperventilating. The only thing connecting her to the world outside was the warm hand gripping hers.
Looking up, she stared into his pale, emotionless eyes. “Don’t you leave me here.” The last words broke unstead1ily. “Don’t lock me in.”
A moment of silence. Something flickered in his eyes – not quite sympathy or compassion, but the most human reaction she’d seen in his face so far. As if it were buried so deep, he didn’t even know what it was. “I’ll follow you. Put your feet down. You’ll be able to touch the floor.”
She didn’t want to let go of his hand.
Their fingers clung, entwined.
And the silvery animal-shine of a warg flashed through his eyes. His lip curled back. “Let go.”
It was the hardest thing she’d ever done.
Landing on the floor, Riley knelt, breathing quietly whilst she waited for her eyes to adjust to the pre-dawn light. The room was thick with darkness, encroaching in on her, looming, pressing….
Looking up revealed a circle of azure-colored sky, so far away she couldn’t even reach it. Riley’s breath tasted thick and heavy. There could be anything in there with her. The tales about Black River were legendary.
For a moment, she thought Wade’d lied, that he was gone, but then a pair of boots swung through the hole, jeans tightening over the man’s butt as he dropped to the floor beside her. Landing lightly on the pads of his feet, with his fingertips touching the floor, he looked up.
Riley smashed her knee directly under his chin.
Wade’s head snapped back, and a growl erupted from his throat as he hit the floor. Riley jumped up, fingertips catching the lip of the manhole. Kicking desperately, she dragged herself up through the hole, hot sunlight staining her face and shoulders for a moment, arms straining, and—
A hand locked around her ankle. “Going somewhere, darlin’?”
Riley kicked out at him, but he caught her other boot. A hard yank tore her back through the hole, stomach scraping against the edge. No! She grabbed at a hank of dry grass, the brittle fibers tearing loose from the sandy soil. Fingernails raking over the gravel, she felt herself falling.
And then the world was dark again, strong arms catching her as she fell. Riley grabbed at his shoulders reflexively, his unnatural heat clinging to her skin. Hot breath curled over her face and, as her eyes adjusted, she caught the faint, silvery sheen of his pale eyes.
He was smiling.
The bastard was smiling.
It curled over his lips, slightly crooked and completely wicked. As though he’d enjoyed her attempt to free herself. “Entirely predictable."
Wade let her go, and Riley’s feet hit the floor. Reaching up, he grabbed the rope that trailed up through the manhole. “Lights out,” he called, then dragged the cover back into place.
The room plunged into a darkness so heavy she felt as though she were trapped in a vacuum. Her other senses intensified, and she focused on the scent of musty air, a hint of masculine sweat and wolfish musk, and the sound of denim shifting in the darkness. Her heartbeat was a ragged staccato. Wade had to hear it.
“Where are we?” she whispered.
Reaching out, she felt for anything to grab, taking slow, shuffling steps, testing each footfall before she let her heel strike the floor.
“This office opens into the psych ward, judging by the leather straps on the gurneys, and the labels on the medication bottles in there.” A warm hand wrapped around her outstretched arm. “Watch where you’re going.”
Riley turned toward him. Her own personal psycho, but then it was better to have his company than none at all. She grabbed his shirt, clinging to him in case he left her here.
“Now you want to be friendly,” he muttered.
“Don’t let it go your head. It’s not personal.”
“You’re afraid of the dark?”
“Not usually,” she admitted. “But I think the phobia’s starting to grow on me. Something about being trapped underground in an abandoned research facility with a bad reputation.”
“Nothing’s going to get to you,” he said. “I’m the worst thing here.”
“That’s not very reassuring, you know?”
He laughed, a smoky sound that lowered into a purr at the
end. “You want light?”
Her heart leapt at the thought. She’d never realized how much she relied on her eyesight, how much the thought made her feel so much safer. “Please.”
He bent down, her fingers twisting in his shirt. “You can let me go, you know?”
Riley forced her fingers to open, clenching her hands into fists at her sides. The dark threatened to smother her, her breath coming as a loud rasp in the still room.
“Christ Jesus,” he muttered. “I can almost taste your fear.”
A witty retort died on her lips; all she could do was stand there and shake. Blue light sparked at knee level, and then a fluorescent globe overhead blazed to life, blinding her.
Riley took a deep, shuddering breath. The room was stark white, with a pristine warg cage in the corner, and piles of supplies. A comfortable-looking nest of grey, confederacy-issue wool blankets nestled in the center of the room, along with an assortment of clothes strung over a thin rope at eye level. There was a small cook oven in the corner, as well as a set of pots and pans. He must’ve had a generator somewhere, and a fuel supply, judging by the faint hum in the distance.
Surprisingly domestic. Wade had clearly been there a while.
Turning back to him slowly, she tried to catch her breath. Her heart was still racing, but the light had chased away the last vestiges of her panic-fueled phobia.
“You don’t need a paper bag or something?” he asked. “To breathe into?” The silvery shine of his eyes seemed more pronounced. Or maybe that was the fluorescent light that made them seem brighter.
“I-I think I’ll manage.”
“Good.” His expression hardened. Turning away, movements precise and controlled, he knelt in front of a pair of saddlebags and started rifling through them. Tension rolled across his broad shoulders.
Riley looked around. What I wouldn’t do for a wrench right now. It might not kill him, but surely it would knock him out for a while. Enough time to escape.
Her gaze fell on the warg cage.
Good luck wrestling him into that.
“Don’t,” he warned, his voice cold and hard. It seemed entirely at odds with his earlier demeanor.