Harlequin Nocturne March 2014 Bundle: ShadowmasterRunning with Wolves

by Susan Krinard

  The color bled from Brita’s face. She slapped at the back of her neck, spun around and sent Shepherd flying. He hit the wall, slid down and lay still.

  Drakon came running, rifle in hand. He glanced at Brita’s face and smiled grimly.

  “It seems we both have a personal stake in this now,” he said. “That syringe didn’t hold the antidote after all.”

  “Give me a gun,” Brita said, holding out a shaking hand.

  “Stay where you are,” Drakon said as Yeshevsky pointed her rifle at Brita’s head. Phoenix ran to Shepherd and knelt beside him. She had expected to find him dead of a broken neck or spine, but he was still breathing. She knew that moving him now might kill him, but she had no other choice.

  “I am at fault,” Drakon said grimly. “Obviously, I can’t trust my own judgment.” He coughed, turning his head aside.

  “Then we’ll have to go together,” Phoenix said, carefully lifting the mayor over her shoulder. “Don’t even try to argue with me.”

  This time, he didn’t.

  Chapter 25

  The underground room was as white and sterile as nearly every other part of the building, outfitted with dozens of what seemed to be cold storage units, glass-doored shelves, shining steel tables and other equipment Phoenix didn’t recognize. Nearly three dozen people—scientists, technicians, administrators and support staff—were crowded inside, filling the entire rear half of the room and almost hiding the rear exit, presumably blocked by Brita like all the others. Five technicians in full protective suits stood near the largest storage unit, where a half-dozen armed soldiers and their captain had formed a protective cordon around them.

  Phoenix entered the room first. “Everyone remain calm,” she said, easing the mayor to the ground at her feet. “Don’t get in our way and we won’t hurt you.”

  The captain of the guard raised his rifle. “You won’t hurt anyone,” he said.

  She nudged at Shepherd with the muzzle of her gun. “Do you know who this man is?” she asked.

  The captain looked down and signaled for his men to lower their weapons.

  “Who are you?” stammered a man in a white coat, whose name tag read Dr. William Svengaard, Director.

  “Someone you don’t want to mess with,” Phoenix said. Drakon moved up behind her, gripping Matthew by the shoulder while Sato nudged Brita into the room.

  “This man is the son of Senator Patterson,” Drakon said, pushing Matthew forward. “If anyone here opens fire, both he and the mayor will suffer.”

  “But you are... Surely you are with the Enclave?” Svengaard asked. He pointed at Brita. “This woman forced us to—”

  “I know.” Phoenix glanced back at Drakon, who looked increasingly ill. “She’s not in control anymore.”

  The director shuddered. “What do you want? What is your purpose here?”

  “Not everyone in the Enclave agrees with what you’re doing here,” Phoenix said. “There are a lot of people who would like to shut this place down. We’re here to get the antidote and destroy the pathogen.”

  “By whose authority?” the captain of the guards demanded.

  Phoenix ignored him. Svengaard’s face wrinkled up as if he had smelled something noxious. “It isn’t so easy,” he said. “The antidote is experimental. We haven’t—”

  “Why the suits?” Phoenix asked sharply.

  “The virus is inert in the human body,” Svengaard said, almost as if he were proud of his work. “The suits are merely standard protocol for anyone who handles the—”

  “Murder weapon?” Phoenix said.

  “No,” Svengaard protested. “No, you don’t understand.”

  “We understand,” Drakon said. He forced Matthew to his knees. “Give us the antidote, or everyone dies.”

  He sounded, Phoenix thought, extremely convincing, though the men and women in the bunker wouldn’t recognize him as an Opir or know that he was slowly dying. The director scurried away to consult with the suited technicians.

  Brita moved to follow him, and Phoenix nodded permission to the Enforcer who guarded her. Brita wouldn’t do anything stupid now. She needed that antidote, experimental or otherwise.

  And Drakon needed it far more urgently. He could barely stay on his feet, his breathing had become labored and his grip on Matthew’s shoulder was so weak that it would soon be obvious to everyone that the young Enforcer would have no real difficulty in escaping.

  And yet Drakon smiled at Phoenix, even knowing whatever they gave him could fail. All the hours they had spent together—good and bad, as friends and enemies, as haters and lovers—flashed through her mind.

  It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.

  They held each other’s eyes until Brita hissed and pulled their attention back to the technician’s work. They had pulled a small, heavy box, wreathed in condensation, from within the unit and set it down on one of the polished steel tables.

  “There are...seven strains,” Svengaard said, “three for the pathogen and four for the antidote. I insisted we create such an antidote because—”

  “I’m not interested in your reasons,” Phoenix said. “Get on with it.”

  “Only two of the antidotes have been tested,” Svengaard said, wringing his hands, “and both failed. We have not tested the last two. Their efficacy is unknown.”

  “But you’ve been testing them on those Opiri in the sickrooms,” Phoenix said.

  Svengaard didn’t answer. The technicians had put another case on the table beside the first.

  “The pathogen,” Svengaard said, his voice very faint. “Both these cases have been designed to keep the contents intact for up to twelve hours. They will degrade after that.”

  “Prepare syringes for the two untested antidotes,” Brita said.

  The technicians exchanged glances. “Why?” Svengaard asked. Then he looked at Brita more closely.

  “You’re infected,” he said. “You have to be Opir.” He glanced at Drakon. “And so are you.”

  “Get them ready,” Brita snapped.

  “Why are you aiding Opiri?” the captain said, beginning to raise his weapon again.

  Yeshevsky pointed her rifle at the captain, and Phoenix aimed her own gun at Shepherd’s head. “Lay down your weapons.”

  At a curt nod from the captain, the other guards did as Phoenix commanded. Svengaard jerked his head at the technicians, instructing them to proceed. Phoenix turned back to Drakon. There was nothing to say, but she couldn’t bear the silence.

  “Whatever happens,” she said, “I’ll be at your side. You won’t go alone.”

  Alarm and anger erased the exhaustion on his face. “If you mean to...take your own life—”

  “I mean I won’t leave you until this is over,” she said, “one way or another.”

  Abruptly, Drakon fell to his knees, losing his grip on Matthew. Matthew remained where he was, pretending to be dazed and unable to move.

  “The antidote!” Phoenix shouted, striding toward Brita and Svengaard.

  “Which one do you want?” Svengaard asked, touching the tray bearing the two syringes.

  “Both,” Brita said.

  “If you take both, the interaction will almost certainly kill you!” Svengaard said.

  “Brita—” Phoenix began.

  But the Opir was already stabbing the first needle into her arm. Before Phoenix could intervene, she’d used and discarded the second.

  “Fill two more,” Phoenix said, snatching up the other weapon and pointing it at Svengaard. “Fast.”

  The director and technicians worked quickly to prepare two more syringes. Aware that the compound’s soldiers were still waiting for their chance and that Matthew would appear to be unguarded, Phoenix shouted to the young Enforcer and tossed her rifle to
him. He caught it deftly and stood over Shepherd, ready to shoot. When the technicians were finished, they gingerly handed a second tray of syringes to Phoenix.

  She knelt beside Drakon, whose heart had slowed to the point that she could count ten seconds between beats.

  “Which one?” Matthew asked.

  Phoenix looked up at him, her hands trembling so badly that she was afraid she might drop the syringes. “I don’t know,” she said. She glanced back at Brita, who seemed to be listing to one side. Svengaard had warned her not to take both antidotes. He’d be more apt to want Brita dead than save her, so he’d have no reason to lie.

  If she were to give Drakon both untested cures...

  “It doesn’t matter,” Drakon whispered. He smiled at Phoenix and felt for her hand. “I can’t see. You choose.”

  Praying as she never had in her life, Phoenix chose one of the syringes. She pressed the needle against Drakon’s skin. The flesh felt stiff and hard, and she had to use some force to get the needle to penetrate it. When she was done, she bowed her head and rested her hand on Drakon’s forehead. He closed his eyes.

  And stopped breathing.

  No, Phoenix thought. No, no, no...

  But she had no time to grieve. Brita was writhing on the floor, gasping for air, reaching inside her jacket for something Phoenix couldn’t see. As her last convulsion ended, she wheezed out a laugh.

  “There are no Opiri waiting for you out there,” she said, turning her head toward Svengaard. “It was all...me, and them.” With a spasming hand, Brita rolled something across the room toward Phoenix. Instinct alone made Phoenix pick it up.

  She glanced down at the thing in her hand. After a long moment she recognized it for what it was.

  A bomb. Set to go off in ten minutes.

  “Enjoy your revenge,” Brita rasped. And died.

  There was a span of shocked silence, and then the soldiers dove for their weapons. Yeshevsky fired a warning shot, blasting a hole in the floor beside the captain. Matthew pressed the muzzle of his gun to Shepherd’s head.

  “I don’t know why you’re doing this, Lieutenant Patterson,” the captain said, “but you’re no traitor. Whatever they have on you won’t help them now. These Opiri are dying, and this one—” he jerked his head toward Phoenix “—is obviously working for them.”

  Phoenix got to her feet. “Matthew,” she said, “get these people out.” She opened her hand to reveal the tiny bomb. “I’m going to destroy this place,” she said, “and I’d hate to see any of you die here, in spite of the evil you’ve done. You’ve got exactly nine minutes to leave and clear the area.”

  “Lieutenant Patterson,” the captain said. “We can still work this out, disable the device. None of this has to happen.”

  “I’m afraid it does,” Phoenix said, deadly calm in the face of her grief. “I’ve never had to kill in the course of my work. But I’ll gladly die now. Whatever any of us may feel about our enemies, they don’t deserve to be wiped out by a deadly virus. That’s genocide, and only the evil commit it.”

  “She’s right,” Matthew said. “I read the reports my father and Shepherd didn’t want anyone else to see. They developed the pathogen a year and a half ago and put it into fast-track production.” He looked down at Drakon, anger and sorrow in his eyes. “Did you know what they’ve been doing here, Captain? Stockpiling the pathogen so they can infect convicts being sent to Erebus without their knowledge.”

  “Do you hear him, Captain?” Phoenix asked. “Did you know what was going on?”

  The man stared at her, sweat gathering along his hairline. “I follow orders,” he said.

  “But you knew, didn’t you? You, and all the others who worked here. And you all went along with it.”

  No one answered, though a handful of the staff had the grace to look ashamed.

  “Maybe everyone in this room should die for crimes against humanity,” Phoenix said, wanting so badly to return to Drakon, to lie down beside him and hold him one last time.

  “Humanity!” one of the techs shouted. “It’s our enemies we—”

  “Crimes against what we value in our species,” Phoenix said. “The things we think make us better than the Nightsiders, even though we lump all of them together as if every one of them is a monster. As if we aren’t as fully capable of those same heinous acts.” Her gaze swept the room. “When we destroy this, we’ll be saving ourselves.”

  “Listen to her!” Matthew shouted. “My own father did this! My father and Aaron Shepherd, pretending to be enemies.” He nudged the still-dazed mayor with the toe of his boot. “My father’s already paid for his sins. And once word of this gets out, the mayor will lose everything.”

  Phoenix met the captain’s gaze. “You can try to shoot us, and let this continue. Or maybe you can redeem yourselves by working toward peace instead of murder.”

  For a moment it seemed as if the captain understood. But then, moving with almost inhuman speed, he snatched up his rifle and prepared to shoot Phoenix, clearly indifferent to his own fate. Neither Matthew nor Yeshevsky had time to react. Something moved at Phoenix’s feet, sprang up and shot past her like a stone from a slingshot, slamming into the captain. Bones snapped, and three other soldiers, who had managed to grab their own weapons, went down before any of them got off a shot.

  Phoenix’s brain caught up with her senses. Drakon was alive, and moving like a demon out of legend. Phoenix pocketed the bomb and dove for a dropped rifle, while Matthew took careful aim and shot two more soldiers in rapid succession, bringing them down without killing them.

  When he, Phoenix and Drakon were finished, every soldier in the room was disabled, and those civilians who’d considered joining in were cowering on the ground. Drakon stood over the captain, teeth bared, breathing fast from sudden exertion but very far from death. He looked at Phoenix and grinned.

  That was all she needed, that smile. The fact that they were both alive in this moment, no matter how long it lasted.

  “Matthew,” she said, “get everyone out.”

  “Give me the bomb,” Drakon said.

  “Forget it,” Phoenix said. “You’ve just recovered.”

  But he was too fast, and in seconds he had the bomb out of her pocket and in his hand. He sprinted for the elevator.

  “Drakon!” Phoenix cried. “We have to destroy this place! If you take the bomb—”

  He spun around, panting. His eyes lost their wildness.

  “Everyone out!” he commanded. He shoved the bomb in his own pocket, ran to the mayor and lifted him over his shoulder. “Anyone who has the strength, take the wounded. You have less than five minutes.”

  Without hesitation, Phoenix grabbed one of the wounded soldiers, who wasn’t stupid enough to struggle. Matthew and Yeshevsky carried two more while other staff members crowded into the elevator.

  It took nearly the entire five minutes for everyone to get out of the building. As Phoenix passed the last of the wounded on to one of the stronger staff members, she turned to find Drakon speaking urgently to Matthew. The young man nodded, signaled to Yeshevsky and jogged after the fleeing employees.

  Phoenix started for Drakon, but he was already running back into the building. She ran as hard and fast as she ever had, catching him just as he stepped into the elevator.

  “No!” she said, grabbing him. “Not alone!”

  “I won’t have you die,” he said, reaching for the door button.

  “And I said I wouldn’t leave you.”

  She squeezed her way into the elevator just as the door closed. The bomb in Drakon’s pocket began to beep a warning.

  And then Phoenix was alone with the man she loved.

  He took her in his arms and kissed her, burying his hands in her hair.

  “Phoenix,” he said when they finally separated. “Y
ou had so much to live for, so much you could have done to rebuild your Enclave.”

  “It isn’t my Enclave now,” she said, pressing her fingers over his lips. “And I said I’d never leave you.” She smiled. “There’s nothing you could have done to keep me away, Drakon.” She laid her cheek against his chest, hearing his heart beat strongly beneath his ribs.

  “What was it like to die?” she asked.

  “After all the things I’ve done,” he said, stroking her hair, “even though I didn’t want to leave you, I was ready. But something called me back. It didn’t feel like anything foreign in my body. It felt...like a part of me.” He kissed her forehead. “Maybe it was.”

  Phoenix closed her eyes and felt for the bomb in his pocket. The elevator reached the bunker, and together they walked in.

  Brita was sprawled on the floor, her body still. Phoenix swallowed and placed the small device on the table next to the container holding the vials of pathogen. Drakon stood beside her, his arm locked tightly around her waist.

  “Maybe you can still get away,” she said suddenly, breaking free. “I’ve failed at so many things, but you can go back to Erebus and tell them what we’ve done. Make them understand. You may be—”

  “There’s a stairwell...in the back—” Brita gasped, her eyes half opening. “Save her, brother.”

  Then her head rolled to the side, and suddenly Drakon was lifting Phoenix off her feet and carrying her toward the rear of the bunker. The door was unlocked, as if someone had already planned to escape by the stairs. Drakon raced up them three at a time and didn’t slow until they were outside the building. There was no sign of the others, but he kept running until he turned a corner of the nearest building outside the fence and the shock wave of the explosion nearly knocked him off his feet. He stumbled, pushed Phoenix to the ground and curled his body around her until the noise subsided.

  Phoenix squirmed out from under him and staggered to the front of the building. The laboratory complex had collapsed, and rubble filled the depression where the bunker had been.