It was the way he inclined his head when he looked at her, and the way his eyes seemed to glow when light reflected in them. His sneer showed jagged teeth, yellowed by years of smoking.
Simon had once pulled a gun on her and had threatened her more than once verbally. He was the wrong sort of man to get involved with, business or otherwise, and Claire didn’t heed the warnings. Now, she was trapped.
Claire was suddenly aware just how much her hands hurt, holding so tightly and angrily to the laptop. Immediately, she released her grip and sat it aside. Her palms were dry. Red lines bit into the flesh where the corners of the keyboard had dug into it. Normally, her palms would have been sweating, but not now.
Grimly, she lifted her eyes from the abrasions on her hands and stared across from her. Simon had lit up a cigarette, and the smoke quickly became a stifling cloud around her head. She waved one hand in front of her face to clear the air for a deep breath.
He watched her this time, his stare locked heavily upon her. She somehow was able to keep her gaze fixed upon him. The hard features of his face lit up once in the light of the passing overhead street lamps and it gave him a surreal golden glow. His eyes for a moment looked golden and Claire blinked a few times, letting the trick of the light run its course. There was his usual twisted smirk on his face.
What are you up to, Simon? She wanted to ask. Just what is it you want? I don’t understand.
There was so much she didn’t understand. The whole PRDI, for one, loomed heavily in the back of her mind. She had heard about it before, but had never given it much thought. She had been among the crowds of skeptics and disbelievers, and now, she wasn’t so sure. It was so confusing.
A headache began its pulsing throb in her right temple and Claire closed her eyes. She massaged the lump, willing the pain to go away. She didn’t need this now.
Simon glanced away from her, focusing on the unconscious female once again. Smoke swirled from his nose as he exhaled and Claire noticed that he looked tired for once. He held the look of a man who had survived for too long without a good night’s rest and it showed plainly in his sallow skin and his blood-shot eyes. He sighed, but said nothing.
Sean’s voice drifted from the front seat with another call on the cell phone and Claire let out her breath, turning her attention toward the front. Rain fell in torrents down the windshield and the wipers brushed the droplets away for a clear view. She hadn’t even realized it was raining.
While her head was turned, she caught movement in the corner of her eye and turned back. Simon had reached for the case that held the tranquilizers and she felt a sickness hit her full on. Her breath caught in her throat. He removed two of the capped syringes and put the case away. When his gaze met hers, he grinned lewdly.
“The drugs we gave them earlier should be wearing off any moment, probably sooner for the woman.” He looked at her once more and then back to Claire. He brandished the needles with a wave of his hand. She only stared at him, aghast.
“You’re giving them more?”
Her question was never answered. Sean interrupted her then, his hand over the receiver of the phone. He stared at Simon with humorless eyes. “We’ve got a problem.”
“Fuck. What is it?” Simon’s attention left Claire and turned to more pressing matters. “What’s going on?”
“The rest of my men haven’t shown up at headquarters yet.” A tone of annoyance could easily be detected in Sean’s voice. An eyebrow arched on Simon’s face and Claire knew a sneer would soon form at the corners of his mouth. She was right. This wasn’t going to be good.
“So, what’s the problem?”
Sean was taken aback and he stumbled through his words. Eric, beside him, let out a chuckle that he quickly masked with a cough.
“Well… Um, they were supposed to be there already. They were tracking down another group of them.” He said the word just like Simon did, with disdain and hatred. “And they haven’t. I think they may have met the same fate our men tonight did.”
“Fuck that.”
Sean’s eyebrows were knotted together in a look of confusion and he tilted his head to one side. The phone was still pressed against his shoulder.
“What?”
“Fuck that,” Simon repeated. He shrugged his shoulders, emphasizing just how much he cared.
“But my men could be dead. We should conduct a search for them—”
Simon’s stare was cross, and if it could’ve inflicted pain upon the young man seated in the passenger’s seat, it would’ve. Claire felt the tension in the air. Simon was silent for a moment or so and his gaze soon left Sean.
Sean lifted the phone to his ear and said in a discontent voice, “Hang on a sec, Alana.” Sweat glistened on his forehead and just under his nose. He wiped it away with his free hand, replacing the phone to his shoulder.
Simon stared at the girl beside him. Her head moved side to side once. Sweat had started on her brow and her lips moved with soundless words. Simon moved his calloused, blood-stained hand over the side of her face. It was he who broke the questioning silence. As he spoke, in a clear and shady voice, his eyes never left the female werewolf.
“Go out and conduct a search, Sean? Are you not aware that we have two captives, and that doing so would be stupid? What happens when they wake up? What if they attack? You know, they are stronger than…us.” He hesitated but just barely on the last word.
“What, her? We can take her. She doesn’t look that strong.”
Eric gave a snort from the front seat. He wheezed through his nose a bit when he spoke.
“Speak for yourself, man. She’s stronger than she looks. Are you forgetting the scene upstairs? Oh that’s right; you had to fight with a kid. Big deal. She’s a fucking werewolf, Sean. I could barely handle her.”
Finally, Simon’s brown eyes lifted and he stared at Sean. The look in his eyes was indescribable. The sneer was gone from his lips. He looked even scarier than Claire had ever seen him before. She was glad the focus of this debate was not upon her.
“He’s right. She’s a werewolf and capable of much more than you can possibly imagine. What happens when she wakes up?”
“But she’s outnumbered…” Sean was beginning to look uneasy. The phone was still pressed against his shirt, a blue glow resonating from it.
“Even so, she’s a lot quicker than any of us. She can take us out before we can even blink. I don’t think I want to risk that. We get her to the headquarters, and then we talk about finding the rest of your team. All right?”
The last note ended with a commanding stare from Simon, and Sean, looking very uncertain about the whole thing, nodded bleakly.
“Yeah. I understand.” There was a pause, as if he was waiting for Simon to continue, but when the leader did not, he resumed his phone call. “I’m back, Alana. Listen, uh…we’ll be there shortly, then we’ll talk about the others, okay? Yeah, bye.”
Sean snapped the cell phone shut. Claire’s attention was still focused on the front of the car. The rain fell heavier now and the road was barely visible through the windshield even with the help of the wiper blades. She sighed.
Sean passed her a look and his eyes clearly told her the story of how he felt. He wasn’t sure about anything anymore and he was scared. He was pissed. She felt the same way.
She looked toward Simon. He fingered the syringe with a slow, steady movement, all the while his gaze rested on the woman. He looked contemplative and Claire wondered, briefly, what was going on in his head.
She quickly reminded herself that she didn’t really want to know. She eyed the tranquilizer distastefully, but curiously. He’s going to give them more…
It wasn’t her brightest idea, given the recent circumstances and argument moments before, but it was time to take a stand. Claire couldn’t take it anymore. She set her jaw and her stern gaze upon him.
“Simon, do you mean to give them more of that?”
“What?” Simon answered, annoyed. He appeared to ha
ve just come out of a stupor, and for a moment he stared at her blankly. “What are you talking about?”
“Those.” She pointed at the drugs in his hand. “Do you mean to give them more?”
A sick grin spread across Simon’s lips, revealing his yellow teeth.
“Maybe.”
“You don’t know how they will react to that stuff. They could have a reaction, and it’ll kill them.”
“Oh, I doubt it, Claire. For the boy, maybe…but for her, no.” He shook his head. “They can withstand large amounts of medications. It slows down their responses, and even the precious healing abilities, but it won’t kill them. Fuck, I can pump her with about ten doses of this shit, all at once, and she wouldn’t be damaged for life.”
Claire stared at him, shaking her head. She pursed her lips. She couldn’t find words to argue that point. Simon continued.
“In fact, she should be waking up soon. Bad thing about this stuff, it wears off quickly. For normal humans, it’s a few hours at the least, but for them, it’s half that, maybe less.”
“You’re horrible.”
Simon let out a harsh laugh and looked at her. “Claire, don’t worry about it. What does it matter to you?”
“You’re hurting innocent people, that’s why it matters. Why do you want them so badly? Why not just kill them like the rest? At least put them out of their misery early in this thing, instead of subjecting them to constant torture.” She was suddenly aware that her voice had reached a new octave and she glared at him. When she saw the look on Simon’s face, she immediately went silent.
“It’s my business, Claire, why I want them—”
“It’s our business too, Simon. You got us involved.”
“Well I can take you out of it if that’s what you want!” he bellowed, and Claire cringed. She stared at him with wide eyes. Eric watched from the rearview mirror, while Sean craned his neck for a good view. Simon’s eyes had become intense and flared with some sort of fire.
“I’ll put you out of your misery, Claire, and it won’t take me that long,” he said. His voice was quieter this time, but lost none of its intensity. “All you have to do is say the word. Do you want it? Do you want out?”
Claire was at a loss for what to say. She found herself with a dry mouth, unable find the right words to protest. All the while Simon scorned her with his snide grin. His eyes dared her.
“Well?” he prompted when she didn’t respond after a few minutes. The entire van had gone silent, save for the drone of the engine and the swishing of the wiper blades as they moved back and forth.
Claire took a deep breath, defeated. She exhaled as she spoke.
“No, Simon.”
“That’s what I thought.”
Silence once more reigned. He seemed satisfied with her response and Simon’s gaze lingered on Claire for a brief moment longer, before turning to the girl beside him. He resumed his pensive gaze, focusing on nothing.
Frustrated tears stung her eyelids, but she wouldn’t let them fall. She crossed her arms over her chest, a powerful glare locked onto Simon. His long forgotten cigarette dropped its ash haphazardly on the floor of the van, and the red sparks went dull and then out. The red glow still clinging to the cigarette was dangerously close to the fingers of the hand that held it. Claire took in a ragged breath and forced her eyes elsewhere, anywhere.
The men in the front seat were long silent, but Claire could imagine their hissing thoughts were similar to her own. They were brooding, uncomfortable in the silence, and they all shared a mutual dislike to Simon Conner. One didn’t have to be a mind reader to sense that.
They were all wondering what he was up to. The puzzle pieces were jammed together; they didn’t fit exactly right. Just what was he up to?
She leaned her head back, feeling incredibly drained and tired. The situation tonight had been mind-numbing. She wanted nothing more than to find a soft bed and pass out. Maybe when she woke up it would be all some horrible, messed up dream.
Simon was a problem and a problem that would never fully resolve. The others knew it, she was almost positive. They would all have to deal with it, somehow.
Or die trying.
Her head inclined back against the wall, and despite the many unpleasant thoughts in her mind, she slipped into rest. Though she wasn’t plagued by dreams or nightmares, she nevertheless could not sleep comfortably. Eventually, she must have conked out, because the next moment, she was rudely awakened by a howl.
It was more like an ear-splitting screech, followed by an alarming and animalistic growl. Her eyes shot open, and she involuntarily jerked back. A gasp sounded from her as she beheld what was going on.
The female werewolf was awake and she was pissed. Her feral golden eyes were ablaze. Her legs kicked wildly as she thrashed in her seat. Her hands curled into vicious claws, her long fingernails protruding and ready to strike. Simon’s massive arms held her back, and the grip he had on her upper arms would surely break the bones. His face was a blank mask, but his eyes were furious.
He continued his hold on her, struggling to keep her still. She growled louder, her eyes unnatural. The gaze turned, boring into Claire and she swallowed hard.
“Should I pull over, boss?” Eric demanded from the front seat. He watched the proceedings with hardly a worried gaze. His eyes flicked back and forth from the road to the rearview. Sean was staring, white-faced at the girl, silent.
“Fuck, Eric, no. That’s the last thing we need.” He grunted the last few words. She had elbowed him in the gut, enough for him to feel it, but not enough to be taken off guard. He held fast to her.
The syringe he had prepared fell from his hand and was soon to be trampled under the kicking feet of the werewolf. She snarled, words spitting from her mouth incoherently. Simon’s strong forearm was now pressed around her neck from behind. Her face turned a vivid shade of red.
She choked, and spittle dotted her mouth and chin. Claire, not thinking clearly, dived forward and grabbed the needle. She was met with a solid kick the sternum, and she almost dropped it to the floor. But she held on as she moved back out of the way.
The swaying and rocking of the van made Claire dizzy, but she held her ground as best she could, half crouched, half sitting on the floor. The needle felt foreign and heavy in her hands. Her chest hurt from the kick. There would be a bruise there later. She pressed the fist with the syringe against the hurting spot and stared at the struggling couple.
The boy beside of the werewolf had tumbled to the side a bit and now his neck was even more inclined at a painful angle. His head tilted toward the front seat where Sean sat, hair tousled and cheek smashed into the seat. Drool dropped in a steady stream from the partially opened mouth. The woman continued to kick.
Claire was numb. She remained where she was, staring, unable to move. It was becoming a real struggle now. The pressure Simon had on her upper arms seemed to be waning, and he was having even more difficulty in holding her back. She was getting stronger.
“Use the fucking needle, Claire!” Simon shouted at her. He increased his grip around the woman’s neck, trying to cut off her oxygen supply. The other needle was just out of his reach, and because his attention was compromised, he could not stoop to retrieve it. His eyes, so similar to the werewolf female’s, but not, burned at her.
“Use the fucking needle!”
Claire felt like she was caught in the tidal wave of some dream. She moved slowly, unwillingly. Her body moved without her command. She uncapped the needle. She moved closer.
“No!” The female screamed, her anger and hostility fueled even further. She tried to kick more, but Simon had pinned her back to the seat, his muscled legs taking the full brunt of the attack. He never flinched. Rage shown in his face and his livid eyes turned to Claire.
The werewolf’s eyes were wide and she also stared at Claire, who held the needle shakily in her hand. The werewolf's rage grew. She started to kick harder. This time Simon winced. His face screwed up in pain.
“Do it!” he screamed.
Claire wavered, the needle feeling very heavy in her hand. She tightened her grip. It shook even more.
“Do it!”
“I can’t.” The words came from her before she knew it, loud and commanding, and then softer. “I can’t do it.” Her eyes were wet with unshed tears. Her arm felt heavy and it fell slack beside her, the needle carefully pointed away from her body.
“Bitch.” Simon grunted and he moved too fast for Claire to catch it. In one swift movement, he had pulled the werewolf female tightly against his body, quelling most of her bucking and frantic attempts to break his hold, and released one of his hands. He shot forward and grabbed the syringe from Claire’s death-grip rather easily.
She watched him pull himself back from the female. He jammed the needle into the woman’s upper leg, using no delicacy, and held it there while injecting the fluid. The woman howled a scream and tried again, vainly, to strike at her captor, flailing and thrashing at him but the drug was already taking affect. She weakened.
Help… Her lips soundlessly formed the words.
Claire watched, sickened. Simon tossed the used needle aside and it clattered on the floor with a pinging that resounded in the silence. The woman in Simon’s hold fell limp, and he slowly and carefully removed his arm from around her throat. Her face paled to its normal hue.
Claire moved slowly from her crouched position on the floor to regain her seat across from Simon. She said nothing, but was well aware of his hardened gaze upon her. Once the woman was out of his arms and positioned how she had been before, he turned fully to Claire.
“Don’t ever do that again.” He spoke the words slowly, venom behind each syllable, and his stare penetrated her like daggers of ice. She tried not to shiver, but couldn’t help it. She remembered his threats of earlier and she rubbed her arms to warm them. He continued to stare.
“Don’t do that again, Claire,” he repeated, as if she hadn’t heard clearly the first time. She didn’t know what to say, didn’t know what to do, and his eyes bored into her spitefully. She shook all over.
Blood Moon Page 3