Tired and fatigued as he was, Drake bolted into a sprint toward the housing units. One of the older hunters yelled at him to come back where it was safe, but he ignored the order.
He listened for another scream as he neared the scorching flames, but could only hear the shrill wailings of the child somewhere in the wreckage. Throwing aside his instinct for self-preservation, just as his father had taught him to do so long ago, he followed the sound and kicked down a door that was already rimmed in a thin ribbon of fire.
Inside, huddled in a corner, were two children. He recognized them as the Brigham children, Jessie and Mason. Furniture and belongings were encased in flames as black smoke filled the room and billowed out the door.
Drake dodged falling embers across the common room floor and gathered them to his side. Jessie’s braid was a frayed mess, and her arm looked to be badly burned. Her older brother was worse off, but he wasn’t the one crying. His face had been blackened as if he had been wading through the smoke to find safety for him and his little sister, and his clothes were torn.
The ceiling beams above him creaked, and Drake hurried them outside. Jessie tripped on one of her shoelaces, and he had to gather her up into his arms to get her out the door.
The rest of the housing unit structure failed as they hurried back to the trees. When the three of them returned and had time to catch their breath, they coughed out the smoke that had infiltrated their lungs in the escape.
One of the women took Jessie from his arms and carried her farther away from the sight of their home in ruins. Mason stayed by Drake’s side and silently stared at the burning compound. Then, he turned to Drake and asked, “Where are my parents?”
Drake looked to the group around him, but he couldn’t see the Brigham couple. One of the hunters, a man Drake trusted from countless missions, heard the question and took the boy aside before Drake had a chance to answer in his usual cold and realistic manner.
He never sugarcoated the truth. If someone was dead, he said it without so much as a crack in his voice. When his mother died years ago, his father taught him to be strong in the face of death. In their line of work, it was the norm. If a hunter couldn’t deal with death, then they had no business being a hunter at all.
Mason and Jessie would soon learn that, though he wished with every fiber of his being that they didn’t have to learn it so soon.
The eldest of the hunters and a close adviser to Andrew, a man named Cale, approached Drake. “Your father?” he asked, probably knowing the answer already.
Drake simply shook his head and listened to another series of explosions that rocked the earth beneath his feet. The fire had made it to the garage by now, destroying millions of dollars’ worth of machines and equipment.
“What now?” Cale asked, his deep voice low and rumbling like the inferno they watched from a distance.
Drake had been in command of the clan for over eight months now, but he despised it. They looked to him for guidance and explanations only his father could give. They had put their trust in Drake only because Andrew declared it. To be his father’s right hand was a difficult job and it made Drake thirsty for the old days when he didn’t have to think on his feet or look after anyone else but himself.
He didn’t want to take over as head of the clan, although that was what his father had intended for him all along. Just like the Brigham children, he was about to be thrown into a new life full of unexpected challenges.
This decision was easy. He only had to look into the eyes of his comrades and know what they should do now.
“We’re going after the beast,” he declared loud enough for all of them to hear.
Jerek, the scrawny teenager who was still hesitant on using a firearm, laughed in contempt. “With what? We don’t have a truck, and we can’t track it.”
Cale nodded. “And we only have the weapons we’re carrying. I already wasted all my bullets trying to take down a vamp.”
“We’ll have all of those things. My father set up a bunker just two miles from here. If we hurry, we can get there and be on the wolf’s trail before daybreak.”
One of the women, Ginger, stepped forward. “What about the children? We can’t take them along.”
“My father’s bunker has two vehicles. We can split up. Take the kids to the compound in Baton Rouge and stay there until we bring back that wolf’s head.”
Cale grabbed Drake’s arm and whispered, “Drake, we don’t have to strike right now. We’re all tired, and a few of us have injuries. We have to regroup. Let’s all go to Baton Rouge and wait this out. We can pick up the trail in the – “
Drake twisted his arm out of Cale’s grip and sneered. “You’re just going to let that monster get off free for doing this?” He gave a sweeping wave toward the burning compound, the red glow of the flames flickering against their faces in the darkness.
“I’m not saying that,” Cale snapped. “But it’ll be wiser to regroup and get more hunters to go after it than fly in half-cocked like you’re suggesting.”
Drake sized each of them up, their stares fixated into him and waiting for his verdict. Despite everything, they still looked to him for the final word.
“Those who are injured and want to rest, go with Cale to Baton Rouge.” He lifted his chin high as his father did when giving a serious order. “Those who want to go after the werewolf who did this, who killed our families and friends, who destroyed our home and livelihood, you all can come with me!”
A pause of silence descended over the group, except little Jessie who was crying some distance off in the woods with her brother.
One by one, the hunters stepped forward to affirm their choices. All but Cale was ready to unite behind him. Then, like the slow turning of the tide, Cale nodded his assent. “Someone has to keep you alive.”
Drake took a steeling breath and turned to the east where he knew the safe house and bunker lay hidden in the forest, just waiting for them to pick up where they had left off and track down the beast.
Chapter Twenty-Four
When the straggling band came home, the reception was not what Katey had expected. She imagined there would be yelling, blaming, angry fingers jabbed in her face and lots of groveling to Darren and Michael for her inexcusable disobedience.
Instead, each pair of eyes were marked by a solemnness that pierced Katey’s heart more viciously than any silver bullet or wolfsbane dart. They all knew what had happened. The blood-stained clothes and battle-worn faces were testaments to what they had been doing.
Darren didn’t say a word to her, though she could feel the rage festering beneath his cool and sober exterior. Perhaps it was too soon for the reprimand she deserved.
Michael was the first one to speak, intruding on the long silence that hung in the parlor when they entered. “Go change clothes, Katey,” he said in a gruff and not-so-tender tone. “Ben, keep watch over her.”
Ben nodded and followed Katey as she slowly made her way up the stairs, the slick bottoms of her shoes squeaking on the wood treads. She couldn’t blame them for wanting Ben to accompany her upstairs. She had proven herself a flight risk too many times to expect anything less.
Thankfully, he did avert his eyes when she stripped off the grimy clothes and slipped into one of Logan’s shirts and jeans. The material hung from her thin frame, but after cinching the jeans tight with a belt and tucking the shirt in, Katey found the big clothes surprisingly comfortable. It made her wonder why she hadn’t worn Logan’s clothes before.
As his scent invaded her senses, chasing away every rational thought, the grief began to take hold with the force of a riptide. Katey stared blankly at the floor, the collar of the shirt clutched between her fists. Like all the air had been let out of her, she slowly crumbled to the floor and sat there.
They had no idea where Logan was, and although they had an arsenal of noses to track him, Katey couldn’t help but feel a sense of loss somehow. Logan was gone, far out of her reach and anyone else’s, and there se
emed to be a finality about it, though she had every reason to believe they would get him back one way or another.
More than that, Katey relived the slaughter she had witnessed in the compound. Logan had killed so indiscriminately. The images of the human and vampire corpses came back to her, and the gasping tears convulsed her body. It was simply too much, and Katey’s empathic spirit became overloaded by the lavish details of the massacre.
Ben turned and rushed to her side. He only needed to take one look at her to know what was going on before wrapping his arms around her shoulders.
Katey shuddered with each breath and squeezed her eyes shut against the memory, but the darkness only made the visions come back in sharp relief. She was there in the compound again, stepping over the mutilated bodies and the stench of death was everywhere until she questioned whether her own heart was beating.
“Hey, it’s over now,” Ben whispered, gently rocking her.
Katey wheezed in a breath and said, “It’s my fault. If I hadn’t run away, they would all still be here.”
Ben held her more tightly, and a bit of his calm trickled into her. “Don’t go there,” he ordered, his voice firm but soothing. “Put it behind you. There’s nothing you can do about it now. All we can do is keep living, keep fighting.”
She looked to him, meeting his golden eyes with her own. The wolves had always been their strength, their rock to lean on. What could she do when the wolf was so accustomed to death, and she was trying to run from it? The prospect of her own death hadn’t shaken her, but this week had shined a spotlight on the reaper as it claimed countless of their kind and their enemies alike.
All Katey knew was that it had to stop. First, it was the hunters who were responsible for the bloodbaths. Now, it was Logan. If allowed loose and without an alpha to control him, the innocent lives of the humans were in danger. Just like at the compound, Logan would destroy everything in his path without mercy.
Katey sniffled and nodded, knowing she had to be strong. There would be a time to mourn and grieve, but it wasn’t now. After a while, the morbid visions would cease, and her mind might repair itself in time, but it wouldn’t stop the waking nightmares that were sure to come.
Ben eased away and rubbed her back until she had wiped away the last of the tears.
“I’m sorry. I just lost it there for a minute,” she said with an unconvincing laugh.
There was a shift in Ben’s spirit that made her look away. “I know what it’s like,” he said.
He had survived enough wars to know how she felt. Maybe he had a similar breakdown during the Civil War after his first battle. She wanted to ask who was there to comfort him when he experienced more emotion than any soul could handle, but she knew the answer to that.
No one was there. The captains and generals would have had no time to baby their soldiers and back then, men would not have been comfortable with consoling one another.
It was more likely that Ben had to deal with the stress on his own. How many battles did it take before he learned how to cope with what he had seen? How many decades did it take for him to be so wise?
Ben helped her to her feet, and she gave his hand a quick, affirming squeeze before they left the bedroom. Katey took slow and deep breaths as they joined the rest by the front door in the foyer.
Anton was surrounded by Darren, Dustin, Gregory, Forrest, and Michael, telling them all in military-exact detail what took place at the compound. They now knew everything from the moment Katey left the mansion to when they turned their backs on the burning hunter headquarters. Of course, there were some things Anton would never have known about.
“Change?” Dustin questioned, a perfect blend of shock and disbelief on his face. “That’s impossible. Logan’s never been able to change on his own.”
“He didn’t do it on his own,” Katey spoke up, ignoring the concerned looks from everyone. Even though she nearly had a meltdown that everyone could hear on the property, she refused to be pitied. They couldn’t afford to waste that kind of energy, just like she couldn’t waste time on the guilt-ridden knot in her stomach. “He drank something and then changed. I was there when he did it.”
Dustin’s throat worked, knowing that could only mean one thing. Darren knew as well, though he didn’t let a single ounce of belligerence bleed through into his visage, though it’s energy plowed through Katey like a battering ram, along with the unspoken question on everyone’s mind.
“I know where he got it,” she answered. “And I know just where to find her.”
Darren looked to Michael. “I suggest we split up,” he said. “You go after Logan, and we’ll go take care of his dealer.”
To equate Logan’s transaction with Marie as something illegal, like a drug deal, placed him in a criminal light that Katey didn’t like. Logan wasn’t addicted to whatever it was he took, but what else could she call the woman who equipped him with this dreadful poison?
Michael did not readily agree and looked to Anton. They two vampires stared at one another, silently communicating on some level Katey and the others couldn’t possibly understand. After working together for centuries, they could probably read each other’s thoughts.
After a hard moment, Michael looked back to Darren and let out a sigh. “Very well. But if we find him, we will do everything in our power to not engage him. I won’t hold the boy responsible for the deaths of my operatives, but I can’t allow the safety of my men to come before his.”
Darren nodded. “That will do,” he replied and then turned to Katey. “Where did he get the potion?”
Bourbon Street was in full swing, even at three o’clock in the morning. Music carried on the wind and the odor of beer and vomit coaxed out a few gags from Katey as it had the first day they arrived in New Orleans. If she were alone, the partiers and drunkards would have certainly trampled her on the sidewalk. But her pack was with her, gathering around her like a triangular guard detail, buffering the crowds as they made their way toward Madame Celestine’s Voodoo Emporium.
Michael and Anton formed their group of searchers and were hot on Logan’s trail, but they made it clear if things became too dangerous, they would pull out or use violent force to detain the loup-garou. Gregory and Forrest volunteered to accompany them, and Michael welcomed their assistance, knowing they both had experience with rogue wolves. With luck, the presence of another loup-garou would settle Logan down.
Her affront against the pack seemed to have been forgiven, though no words were spoken about it. The car ride on the way to the French Quarter was quiet, but Katey was unnerved by the wild emotions amongst Darren, Dustin, and Ben. Hate, rage, and fear dominated the air around them, but no one spoke a word that didn’t have to do with the mission at hand. What Katey couldn’t tell is which emotion was directed toward her, Logan, or the voodoo apprentice.
Katey knew apologizing would do no good. It wouldn’t bring Logan back to them and it wouldn’t right the wrongs she had committed against Darren’s authority. If this were baseball, this would have been her third strike, but they didn’t call her out just yet.
She looked at Darren and Dustin’s back, noting their rigid shoulders and tight faces that scanned the masses for trouble or danger. Ben brought up the rear and stayed the closest to her.
Out of all of them, Ben was the one who was the least offended by what she had done. It wasn’t his grandson that was missing, and it wasn’t his authority she had defied. Once again, she felt a comradery with the old soldier more than any other, and if she were to be ostracized, she knew Ben would be on her side.
They came to the emporium, but the blue shutter doors were shut, and a sign dangled from the knob, saying they were closed and to come back at noon the next day. Darren pounded his fist on the door, but there was no answer.
Just as Katey was about to trespass on the silence between her and her alpha, to suggest they try another way to find Marie, a tired and withered voice came from above.
“Come in, wolves. The door is
not locked.”
Katey looked up, but the bottom of the balcony blocked her view to see who was speaking.
“We should have just tried to door first,” Dustin mumbled and led the way into the cramped shop.
The long room was pitch black and cluttered with merchandise stands and tribal relics hanging from the walls. Ben shut the door behind them and turned the few bolts and chains to firmly lock it, trapping them inside.
The pack stood still in the middle of the store and waited, their heads on a swivel and ears open. Katey saw a doorway ahead and slipped between Darren and Dustin to investigate. Her alpha grabbed her arm and pulled her back, keeping her close.
She didn’t resist as she had with Anton and bowed her head in submission. “I’m sorry, Darren,” she whispered, feeling the need to say something and somehow erase her sins in his eyes. She was sorry for more than one thing.
Darren didn’t reply, and it gave some attestation to Katey that his anger truly was reserved for her. Her stomach, already in knots and twists, lurched at the idea that this might really have been her last chance. What greater iniquity was there than to jeopardize the safety of the pack?
Dustin put his hand on her shoulder, a counter to the eddy of emotions that threatened to spin Katey out of control again. He wasn’t mad but scared out of his mind. His grandson was out in the world, away from his watchful eye, and hell bent on a killing spree that might expose their entire way of life. Just one photo shared to a social media site would put them all under the microscope. Katey wasn’t sure which was worse: the hunter’s wolfsbane or this new threat to their existence.
A pair of light footsteps slowly descended a flight of stairs out of sight from the main store lobby. Moments later, a frail and elderly woman stepped through the doorway Katey had been eyeing earlier.
In the darkness, Katey could make out the petite woman and her wiry gray hair that sprouted out in all directions. Her dark face was marked by years upon years of wisdom, the wrinkles carving deep grooves into her skin. The nightgown and coat she wore hung from her thin frame like draping muslin curtains. The hem tickled the floor, concealing feet that might have been clad in a pair of slippers.
Beast Within (Loup-Garou Series Book 3) Page 38