There were only two ways into Thornhill: through the gate or over the fence. We could have waited a few days and hijacked a delivery, but no one wanted to risk leaving the wolves in the detention block that long. By now, Sinclair would know that the hit she had put out on Jason and me had failed and there was no telling what she might do to Kyle, Serena, and Dex as payback.
Unfortunately—short of driving a tank through it—there was no way to disable the fence from outside the camp.
The zip line had been Eve’s idea. She was the one who had remembered the ancient water tower near the fence. If a wolf could survive the drop to the ground, they could run a line to the tower from the wall. Then the rest of us could propel across.
“I still don’t understand why your father is doing it,” said Jason as we watched Hank gauge the distance he’d have to clear to make it over. “Shouldn’t they have picked someone who’s not completely indispensable?”
“You don’t get to be the head of a werewolf pack without being insanely tough,” said Eve. “There are two, maybe three wolves who are stronger than Curtis, but not by much and they don’t heal nearly as fast. We need someone who can recover quickly.”
“And you’re sure he’ll be able to? Recover quickly?” I didn’t ask what would happen if he hit the fence. No werewolf, no matter how tough, would survive that.
Eve pressed her mouth into a thin, hard line and didn’t answer.
She has no idea.
I peered up at the top of the wall, trying to ignore the sudden lump in my throat. An old, familiar feeling settled over me as I watched Hank back to the very edge of the concrete. It was the same knot of uncertainty and fear I used to get when he left on jobs.
Hank shook the tension out of his arms and said something to the other wolves on the wall. Then, without warning, he ran the three steps to the edge and launched himself out into space.
For a horrible second, I thought he wasn’t going to make it, but then he twisted in midair and cleared the razor wire with just inches to spare.
Relief sparked in my chest. Before it could take hold, Hank plummeted to the ground like a bag of bricks.
He hit the earth with a horrible thud. Clouds of dust billowed around him, and when the air cleared, he wasn’t moving. He lay half-sprawled on his back, arms and legs twisted at unnatural angles.
“Get up. Get up.” Eve’s voice was low and urgent, half command, half plea. She approached the fence. “C’mon, Curtis. Get up.”
He didn’t move.
I reached for Jason’s hand and squeezed, squeezed so tightly that I was probably hurting him.
Kyle had once fallen from a second-floor window, but those had been residential stories. And as badly hurt as he’d been, he hadn’t looked nearly as broken.
The minutes dragged on. Eventually, Jason detangled his hand from mine. “Eve . . .”
“He’ll be all right,” she said. “Just give him time.”
But her voice shook with uncertainty, and around us, the other wolves had begun exchanging nervous whispers.
Years ago, I had convinced myself that I was fine with never seeing Hank again, but there was a difference between a world in which Hank chose not to be part of my life and a world in which he simply didn’t exist. The first I could handle, the second I wasn’t ready for.
I stared at Hank, willing him to get up. I stared so long and so hard that when his arm twitched, I was sure I had imagined it.
But Eve had seen it, too. “Curtis? Can you hear me?”
In response, my father’s body tore itself apart. Muscles shifted and the few bones that hadn’t shattered on impact snapped with the sound of a dozen cracking whips. When it was over, a massive wolf with fur the color of ash and snow rose to its feet.
The wolf—I still had trouble thinking of it as “Hank”—tossed its head and took a few experimental steps before breaking into a slow run.
Eve stumbled back a half step in relief. She shook her head, grinned, and then glanced up at the two wolves on the wall. “You’re good to go!”
As they began assembling and positioning equipment, the gray wolf circled back and sniffed one of the packs. It lifted its head and the air around it seemed to shimmer before fur flowed into skin and my father was left kneeling on the ground, his back to the fence.
I quickly looked away as he pulled clothes from the backpack and dressed.
“It’s safe to look,” said Jason drily, a moment later.
I turned as Hank grabbed both bags. He jogged to the water tower, scaled the ladder on the side, and then tied a white cloth around a rung near the top. I wasn’t normally scared of heights, but seeing him climb so high on the rickety structure made my stomach flip.
Jason glanced at his watch. “We’re cutting it too close.”
“They’re going as fast as they can.” I glanced back at the wall. The wolves had assembled a tripod. On it was a contraption that looked like the misbegotten offspring of a telescope and a fire extinguisher.
They waited until Hank climbed down to the ground and then adjusted their aim. With a small blast, a grappling hook shot through the air and sailed over the fence. It hit the water tower with a metallic clang and snagged the rung Hank had marked with the cloth.
Everyone seemed to collectively hold their breath.
The water tower was far from the center of camp, but if a guard had heard and decided to investigate, everything we had planned would fall apart.
The night stayed quiet.
Gradually, in small increments, the muscles in my chest unclenched.
Hank scaled the tower again. After pulling the cord taut, he slipped the grappling hook free and then secured the line using a series of intricate knots. When finished, he raised a hand to signal that everything was ready.
Eve arranged the team in order of importance. Jason and I ranked low; there were only two wolves behind us. The men on the wall would stay and protect the line on this side of the fence. If things went wrong, it might be our only way back out.
Eve started up the scaffold. As the smallest and lightest, she had the dubious honor of being the group’s guinea pig.
“Be careful,” I called up to her.
When she reached the top, she paused and pulled on a pair of heavy black gloves.
There was no harness or safety gear: Eve simply lowered herself to the edge of the wall and grabbed the rope with her gloved hands. She crossed her ankles over the line and began shimmying across. She moved impossibly fast, using the strength and speed that came with lupine syndrome.
I bit my lip as she neared the fence. There were just a few feet between her back and the top of the razor wire.
Eve made it over, but she wasn’t in the clear, yet. The wall was seven yards from the fence; the water tower had to be at least twice that.
After another few moments, she reached the tower. In an impossibly graceful move, she swung off the rope and onto the ladder. She climbed partway down, jumped the last eight feet to the ground, and then held up her arms in a Rocky pose.
The other wolves crossed the line just as quickly. There was a tense moment when one man looked down and almost lost his grip as he was passing over the fence, but he made it.
Then it was Jason’s turn.
He shot me a cocky grin as he pulled on his gloves. “See you on the other side.” He ascended the scaffold so quickly and lithely that it was almost possible to mistake him for one of the werewolves.
I glanced at the line and frowned. Was it my imagination or was the rope hanging a little bit lower? Before I could ask the woman behind me, Jason started across. All that time he spent working out definitely had benefits: He wasn’t quite as quick as the wolves, but most regs would never have been able to keep up with him—not unless they were professional athletes or members of Cirque du Soleil.
Even so, I didn’t blink until he reached the other side.
My turn.
I climbed the scaffold, slipping on my gloves as I went.
&
nbsp; “It’s easy,” said one of the wolves with a small, slightly flirtatious smile as I reached the top. “Just hold on and don’t look down.”
“Right,” I bluffed. “Piece of cake.” I sat on the edge of the wall and grabbed the rope. It didn’t look like it was hanging low at all now. Just my imagination, I told myself as I hooked my ankles over and gracelessly half squirmed, half flopped off the concrete.
The others had made it look easy. It wasn’t. Within minutes, my arms were shaking and my legs were cramping.
I kept pushing myself. I could see the fence out of the corner of my eye. If I could reach it, I would be a third of the way across. Don’t think about how far it is to the tower, I told myself. Just concentrate on getting to the fence. Focus on that first third.
Almost there . . .
My muscles were on fire.
One hand over the other. That’s it. . . .
I made it past the fence and felt a ridiculous swell of pride that I hadn’t lost my grip and barbecued myself.
See? Not so bad.
The rope suddenly shook beneath me and dropped an inch.
I yelped and stopped moving.
“Mac!” Jason yelled my name as the line dropped again.
The bottom fell out of my stomach as I held on for dear life.
“Mac, you have to keep going! You have to get to the water tower. Now!”
Jason’s voice came from almost directly below me. I turned my head.
I had never seen him look so scared—not even in the car when it seemed certain we were both about to be killed. “The ladder is coming free—the tower’s too old. There’s no way to hold it. When the line goes down, it’ll hit the fence. You can’t be holding it when that happens.”
There was wire in the line: If I was still holding it when it fell—Oh, God. I’d complete the circuit. Even if I survived the fall, I’d be fried.
I started moving again. This time, my arms shook from fear as much as strain, but adrenaline masked the pain.
“You’re doing fine, Mackenzie.” Hank’s voice came from somewhere below, but I didn’t slow to look. “Just a little farther.”
The rope dropped another five inches—all at once—and a small scream escaped my throat.
“It’s all right,” said my father. “Just keep moving.” There was a note in his voice I had never heard before. It took me a second to realize it was fear.
I tried to move faster, but adrenaline could only do so much, and because the rope had dipped, I was now forcing myself up an incline.
As I neared the water tower, I could hear the groan of metal. It sounded like the ladder was peeling away bolt by bolt. I didn’t dare look to see how far I had left to go.
Suddenly, strong arms grabbed me and pulled me off the rope. I expected Jason and was dumbstruck as I started into my father’s blue eyes.
“You okay?”
I managed a nod as we raced down the ladder.
Jason swept me into a hug as soon as my shoes touched the ground. I let him hold me for a few seconds and then gently pushed him away. “I’m okay, Jason, I’m fine.” I was superconscious of the group of ultratough werewolves standing a few feet away, and I didn’t want Hank to think that bringing me had been a mistake, that I’d fall apart every time there was trouble.
“The hug was to reassure myself, actually,” said Jason.
I was about to retort when Eve shouted to get back. Grabbing Jason’s hand, I ran from the tower.
With the tortured sound of twisting metal, the ladder gave way and crashed to the ground where we had just been standing.
I glanced at the fence. Sparks lit the night where the cable had become tangled in the wire.
Now there was no way out except through the main gate.
Eve turned to Hank. “Do you think they’ll send someone to check?”
He nodded. “Not right away—they’ll probably assume an animal got caught—but eventually.” He drew two of the wolves aside. “Stay here and watch the fence. If anyone shows up, keep them from contacting the rest of the camp and raising the alarm.”
“Without killing them,” added Jason.
Hank shot him the kind of look that said he might be tempted to do some killing of his own. “Without killing them—if it can be helped.”
Jason frowned but thankfully didn’t push. The last thing we needed was for my father to lose his temper and leave us at the fence with a couple of werewolf babysitters.
Eve retrieved one of the black bags. “You heard him,” she said as she unzipped the top flap and began handing out guns and magazines. “Bullets are a last resort. Don’t shoot unless you have to or unless someone has an HFD.”
Jason reached for a gun and she hesitated. She glanced at Hank. Only after he nodded did she hand one over.
“Smith and Wesson. Forty caliber.” Jason turned the gun over in his hands. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I figured werewolves would pack something bigger.”
“Not when we’re hunting regs,” said one of the other wolves.
Maybe it was my imagination, but Jason seemed to pale slightly. Without further comment, he loaded the magazine Eve handed him and then tucked the gun into the back of his waistband.
“Here,” she said, passing him the toolkit and device for testing the HFDs. “I went back to the greenhouse and snagged these before I left last night.”
She turned to me. “Gun?”
I shook my head. I knew how to shoot—I couldn’t count the number of times Jason had dragged me to the shooting range to act as a buffer between him and his father—but I was scared of what I might do if I was let loose in Thornhill with a gun—especially if Sinclair had hurt Kyle and Dex or done anything else to Serena.
I glanced in the direction of the sanatorium and pressed my nails into my palm, pressed them so hard I broke the skin.
No, me loose in Thornhill with a gun would not be a good idea.
To my surprise, Eve didn’t take one, either. “First thing we have to do is hit the laundry building,” she said as she tossed the bag to one of the wolves staying behind. “We’re not going to blend in dressed like this.”
Hank shouldered the other backpack and began giving orders. I tried to pay attention, but the lights from the camp kept pulling my gaze. Please be all right, I prayed. We’re coming. Just hang on a little while longer.
I tuned back in just as Hank finished. It didn’t matter: I already knew my part in the plan.
Jason and I fell into step behind the wolves as we headed toward the center of camp. To my surprise, Hank hung back.
“That charm still on your bracelet?” he asked, shooting a glance at my wrist.
I nodded and pushed up my sleeve. “Yeah.”
“Good. As long as you keep it on, I’ll know where you are.”
“I . . . umm . . . okay . . .” It didn’t seem like the kind of statement that should require a “thank-you,” but I felt like I had to say something. Maybe other daughters could take that sort of quasi-caring sentiment for granted—maybe Eve could take it for granted—but I wasn’t used to it and I wasn’t sure how to respond.
Hank seemed just as uncomfortable. He nodded once, and then returned to his place at the front of the group.
We left the fields and walked past the woods, then came to a stop as the camp loomed before us.
I took a deep breath and went to stand beside Eve.
We shared a brief glance—a second of perfect understanding—and then both looked ahead.
The last time we had entered Thornhill, we had been scared, helpless.
This time, we were coming to tear it down.
25
“SOMETHING’S NOT RIGHT.” I STOPPED IN THE SHADOWS next to a dormitory. “It’s too quiet.”
Jason glanced back at me. He had donned an olive uniform—the male equivalent of the outfits Eve and I had slipped into—and for all intents and purposes, he looked just like a Thornhill werewolf. “It’s after curfew,” he said, as if that explained
everything.
It didn’t.
“There should still be something. Voices coming from open windows. Toilets flushing. Guards on patrol. There should still be some noise.”
But around us, the camp was as silent as a tomb.
Eve tilted her head to the side and frowned. “Mac’s right. It’s too quiet.”
“We’re wasting time.” The wolf Hank had sent with us—a man with a gray handlebar mustache and the faint trace of an unidentifiable accent—eased around us. “Curtis gave us a job and we have to get it done.”
We had split into two groups. The first—led by Hank—had headed for the sanatorium to take down Thornhill’s communications system. That would keep anyone from contacting the LSRB and make it harder for the guards inside the camp to coordinate a response once they realized they were under attack. After the communications system was down, they would blow the gates, providing a way in for the dozens of wolves who were lying in wait outside.
Once they accomplished those two things, Hank’s team would hit the detention block.
I hated that Serena, Kyle, and Dex came third, but I understood the reasoning: Without taking care of the communications system and the gates, we’d never be able to get them out of the camp. There was no way any of us would get out.
I had wanted to go with them, but I had convinced Hank he needed me to help combat the HFDs and he was holding me to that. The other team—my team—had been tasked with neutralizing the handheld versions of the device.
The HFDs were signed in and out at the beginning and end of each counselor’s shift. Any not in use—including extras in the event they were needed by guards—were stored in the vault, a room in the basement of the staff quarters, which also housed the traditional weapons like Tasers and guns.
Most of the counselors would be off duty by this time of night, so most of the HFDs should be signed in. All we had to do was get into the staff quarters without anyone raising the alarm, get down to the vault, destroy every HFD we could find, get back out without getting shot, and then rejoin Hank’s group.
Thornhill h-2 Page 22